“We could learn a lot from crayons;
some are sharp, some are pretty, some are dull, while others bright, some have weird names,
but they all have learned to live together in the same box.”
- Unknown
Chapter 1
The Boy in the Cardboard Box

Max lived inside his cardboard box.

But living inside a cardboard box doesn't mean you can't hear things.

Like Mimi, on the phone. Max could hear Mimi. He was clutching his box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and licking the cinnamon off the cereal in his palm, listening intently.

"Three months," Mimi was saying, "And he's only come out of the box a couple of times." She sighed heavily, "I just don't know what to do with him. I've never had his sort of trouble with a kid before, not even with you."

Max turned the cereal over and began licking the other side of the square carefully. He had to take his time. He couldn't hear over the crunching.

"I just wish I could get him to talk," Mimi's voice was sad. Max frowned into the cereal. He didn't like it when grown ups were sad. "If he'd just talk to me, maybe I could help him. But he just won't speak."

Max hadn't said any words in a very long time. He didn't know why, particularly, he just didn't feel like saying anything. Saying things meant the grown ups noticed you, and Max much preferred the shield of invisibility that surrounded his box.

"I know you're busy, but," Mimi sucked in a lot of breath. "I really need your help. I feel like if anyone could help this kid that it would be you. He's so much like you were."

Max had gotten all the cinnamon off the cereal and he had to crunch. His teeth methodically chewed the cereal square and he counted - one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five - and swallowed. Someone once read a magazine article out loud to him that mentioned chewing twenty-five times before swallowing. Sometimes this was easy, but sometimes it was hard.

Max preferred to be safe than sorry, though. You never know what might happen if you don't chew twenty-five times. He didn't dare to find out.

"When can you come over?" Mimi was saying after Max's twenty-fifth chew was completed.

Max crawled onto his knees and peeked out of the crack in the box's doors. He saw Mimi sitting cross-legged on the green velvet chair with the phone to her ear. The TV glow was casting a funny blue-white light on her that flickered. She was wearing jeans and that green sweater again.

"Anytime before lunch is fine. The other children have activities then, but Max won't play with them."

Max didn't want to play. He had better things to do.

"Okay, so we'll see you then," Mimi said. "Thank you again, this means a lot to me."

Max pulled the crack of his box shut as Mimi uncrossed her legs and stood up. Mimi had said before she picked up the phone that it would be bathtime when she hung up. He pressed his back against the far inside wall of the box and vowed for the hundredth time to be brave tomorrow and go outside of the box and fix the invisibility shield so that this couldn't keep happening.

"Take care, bye-bye," Mimi hung up the phone with a click and Max held his breath.

"Max," Mimi called gently. He heard her shoes tap-tap-tap across the wooden floor and stop just outside. He closed his eyes. Thump, thump, thump; Mimi knocked on the box door. "Ma-aaax?" Her fingers wrapped around the door of the box and light flooded into the space inside as she opened them wide. "Max, come on out, it's time for your bath."

Max shook his head.

"Max, come on." Mimi reached inside and took hold on Max's red Converse sneaker and pulled him out.

Max's eyes were squeezed tight-shut and little tears leaked out of their very corners. Mimi sighed and lifted him up gently, kicking the box aside. Max stared at the box over Mimi's shoulder as she carried him to the stairs. He hoped nobody got inside and figured out how it worked.

"You have a visitor coming tomorrow," Mimi told Max as she rubbed strawberry scented shampoo into his red hair.

Max had his eyes closed again, and had scooted as far away from the drain as possible. White bubbles floated around in the water. Mimi had put a rubber ducky in, too, but Max was wary of all yellow things.

"He's a very special visitor," Mimi explained. "You know why he's so special?" she asked. And here she paused, as though waiting for Max to speak. After a moment of silence - the same response she got when ever she'd tried to talk to Max - she continued, "Because he used to live here, just like you."

Admittedly, this intrigued Max just a little bit, but not enough to make him respond. Instead, he kicked at the rubber ducky, sending it spiraling through the bubbles, closer to the drain. If one of the two of them were going to get sucked in there, Max thought, it was going to be the ducky.

"His name is Nick and he lived here for twelve whole years!" Mimi added. "He's a very special person and he wants to be your friend. Isn't that neat, Max?"

Max watched as the ducky bobbled in the water.

Mimi sighed. She grabbed the plastic cup she used to rinse the kids' hair and blocked Max's face with her hand before pouring water over his head. The soap drained out of his hair and into the water in white, foamy trails along his back. She worked until all the soap had come out and reached for the plug.

Max pulled his knees to his chest, holding his toes in his fingers to make sure none of them fell off. He made note in his mind to make sure he counted them before going to sleep that night to be certain that he hadn't lost any. He watched as the rubber ducky spun in circles around the drain on the whirlpool current. Mimi grabbed the ducky by the head and put him on a wire shelf that hung over the faucet in the bathtub before he could be sucked down the drain.

Mimi grabbed a towel from the hook and held it up, arms open. Max stood up, but he didn't jump into her arms like most of the kids did when she held open her arms like that. She reached out and wrapped the towel around his tiny frame and started patting him dry.

The only part of bath time that Max actually sort of liked was the pajamas. Mimi pulled out his favorite pair - a blue pair with dinosaurs all over it and green cuffs at the ankles he could tuck his socks into. He liked red socks only because those matched his red sneakers and he liked to wear his sneakers, even with his pajamas, because they kept his feet safe.

Mimi went downstairs and got Max's box. She'd fought with him many times about taking the box to bed, but Max never slept if she didn't let him have his way. She got the box into the cavern of the bottom bunk in the boys' room and pushed pillows inside, propping open the doors and patted the bed. Max climbed in and let Mimi tuck the blankets around him, but he kicked his feet until they were loose at the bottom and the tight corners had been uprooted from the mattress.

Max watched intently as Mimi picked up The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle, which was Max's favorite book, and began to read about the little bug that ate too much fruit everyday of the week. She held up the pages of the book and peeked through the holes in the pictures of fruit, but Max watched and listened intently instead of giggling and wanting to touch the pages like most of the kids did.

When the story was all over and the caterpillar had become a butterfly once again, Mimi closed the book and laid it on her lap. She leaned on her elbows on the book and stared into the box at Max.

"I love you so very much Max," she said quietly, "I wish I knew how to help you better."

Max hugged a pillow to his chest and rolled over, smooshing his face into the pillow. He waited.

Mimi sighed, "Goodnight, Max." She stood up and pushed the chair she'd been sitting on into the desk where it belonged and turned out the light on her way out. The base-ball shaped nightlight glowed from the socket across the room and the door creaked as she bought it to a close so that only the very slimmest of cracks remained.

Max stared at the wall of his box, closed his eyes, and, eventually, he fell asleep, curious and thinking about the special visitor.

"I met in the street a very poor young man who was in love.
His hat was old, his coat worn, his cloak was out at the elbows,
the water passed through his shoes -- and the stars through his soul."
- Victor Hugo

Chapter 2
The Man in the Red Converse Sneakers

The cardboard box was sitting in the center of the front lawn when Nick pulled up to the house. He stopped his car and stared at the box, intrigued.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Nick clicked the button on his keys and the car beeped twice to indicate it was locked. He walked carefully around the length of the car and stepped up onto the sidewalk, never tearing his eyes away from the box. A tiny hand poked out from inside, and he was certain he could see eyes, watching him.

Is it proper etiquette to greet someone when they are hiding in a box? Nick wondered, Or was he supposed to be invisible?

He decided to go with invisibility, and walked past the box. He heard the box shuffle to turn around on the grass to continue watching him, and he struggled not to turn to look again. Nick’s feet felt heavy as he climbed the steps to the front door – a red door with a big brass knocker. He lifted a hand and knocked on the wood, then leaned against the rail and pretended to look around at the clouds and trees and stuff in the yard, but really sneaking a peek at the box.

The hand had disappeared, but there was still a crack in the box top that faced him.

Max was peeking out of the crack, studying Nick carefully. He looked, to Max at least, like a funny grown up. He had on messy clothes and -- to Max's very great, very curious surprise -- a pair of red Converse sneakers that looked exactly like Max's, only bigger. Just to make sure they were the same, Max counted the eyelets for the shoe laces in Nick's sneakers, then laid on his back, hoisted his own feet up on the wall of the box, and counted carefully three times to make sure he was right and there were exactly the same number.

Mimi opened the door. It had been almost four years since Nick had seen her but she hadn't changed much. Mimi still reminded him of the blonde Pekingese dog in The Lady and the Tramp. The only thing that had changed were the deepening of some laugh lines around her eyes and corners of her mouth and the hair was now dyed blonde instead of naturally so.

Mimi engulfed Nick in a hug and patted his back, "You look so grown up," she said, smiling brightly and holding him out at arm's length, "Look at you. Nick's dark brown hair was still shaggy and messy, like it had always been - and, Mimi thought, probably always would be. He wore jeans and a ratty old t-shirt. He was tall - even on the second step from the top he was as tall as she was. She shook her head, "To think you first came here when you were just a teeny little thing..." Mimi smiled sadly.

Nick smiled. Max liked Nick's smile, because he had a little gap between his front teeth. Max had that same gap. He had gotten that gap when he lost one of his front teeth and the new one had grown in. The other tooth was a baby tooth and it hadn't fallen out yet. He liked that about Nick an awful lot.

"Max is in the box," Mimi said, gesturing towards the lawn.

"What box?" Nick winked at her, "I didn't see a box."

Mimi pretended to strain her neck. "Oh," she said, "The invisibility shield must be working again."

"Must be," Nick agreed.

Max smiled, pleased that he'd managed to repair the forcefield that morning using the tool box that Jake, one of the older kids, had gotten for Christmas. It had taken some markers, too, to add buttons inside to turn the shield on, but it had been a relatively easy fix, and Max was proud of his handiwork.

"Maybe I could come inside until Max becomes visible again?" Nick suggested.

Mimi nodded, and stepped back, letting Nick into the house. Max watched carefully as Nick scraped his shoes on the mud rug. "If there are any invisible people out here that want to come inside, too," Mimi called into the yard, holding open the door wide, "They better come quick!"

Max tipped the box over and his little feet stuck out of the bottom as he walked the box up the steps and into the hallway, careful not to bump into anything. Mimi closed the door and shrugged to Nick, "I guess there wasn't anyone outside, then," she said.

Max sat down with the box positioned so he could see the kitchen, where Nick and Mimi went. Nick sat down at the small kitchen table where some of the kids colored on rainy days and he looked around. "Not a lot has changed in the last four years," he commented.

Mimi shook her head, "Only the kids." She smiled.

"Any of the kids I knew still here?" he asked.

"Jake's still here," Mimi answered. "He's in junior high school now."

"Does he still play baseball?"

"He'd like to play hockey instead," she said.

Max inched the box closer to the kitchen. He could see Nick's feet stretched under the table, like they could just barely fit. Nick's sneakers were scuffed and had writing on the white parts that was fading off and wasn't really legible anymore. He wondered what it used to say.

"Whatever happened to Lucy?" Nick asked.

"A nice couple from Boston adopted Lucy," Mimi answered. "She goes to a private academy now."

Max watched Mimi's feet as she moved between the cupboards and the stove at the far side of the table. Mimi wore mules with little sequins on them, not cool kid shoes like Converse. He heard pans clanking and clanging and the stove clicked as it turned on and the fire came out. Max liked the sound the stove made.

"I took a couple of the kids down to Boston to visit last month," Mimi continued, "We went to the Science Museum for Lucy's birthday. It was a wonderful time."

"Did Max go?" Nick asked.

"No," Mimi answered. "I offered him to come along, but he didn't want to come out of the box, so he stayed home."

Max remembered that day. Jake had come home and pushed a stuffed giraffe into the box. Max had named it after Jake, but he spelled it Gake so that the G matched the G in Giraffe even though Jake didn't spell it that way.

"That's too bad," Nick said with a sigh. "I remember when you took us to the science museum," he laughed.

"And you wouldn't stop trying to climb the trees in the rain forrest exhibit," Mimi added.

Max smiled. That sounded like fun. He imagined climbing up a tree and sitting in the very highest-up place in the whole world and seeing everything just like he was a bird. He crawled further back into the box and leaned against the inside wall and stared at the crack.

"You do a really great thing here, Mimi," Nick said seriously, "I can't complain."

Mimi's feet shuffled slower for a moment, and Max knew that mean Mimi was thinking. He watched Nick's chair push back and those red sneakers walked over to Mimi's mules and stood there. Max leaned forward so he could see better and saw Nick had his arms around Mimi and Mimi was hugging him tightly.

Max was a little jealous of Nick, that he got a hug from Mimi. Max had always wanted to give Mimi a big hug, but he didn't really know how to do it.

"Thank you," Mimi said, her voice thick and gooey sounding. Max watched as Nick sat back down and Mimi put some eggs on a plate. "Ketchup?" she asked.

"Yes please!" Nick was enthusiastic.

"Somethings never change," Mimi said, laughing deeply. She pulled the refrigerator door opened and took out the ketchup. "Here you are," she said, and Max listened as Nick squeezed the bottle and it made that funny squelchy noise that made Max afraid of ketchup bottles almost as much as he was of mustard.

Mustard was yellow.

Things were kind of quiet for a minute as Nick ate his eggs and Mimi sat down, her feet tucked under her chair. Max listened carefully as Nick's fork clinked on the plate every now and again and tried to hear the tick of his teeth to make sure he was chewing twenty-five times. He didn't want Nick to drop dead from not chewing it enough. But he couldn't really hear good enough from inside the box.

He'd just have to venture out and make sure Nick was chewing it right.

"So tell me about Max," Nick said through a mouthful of eggs.

"Max..." mumbled Mimi, "Max is..." she paused.

Nick followed Mimi's gaze across the kitchen and turned around and saw Max had pushed opened one of the doors of the box and was staring at them from his position on his hands and knees, a very serious expression on his face. He crawled out and moved carefully, slowly, to the side of the table by Nick's elbow. He stared up at him.

Nick hesitated, not sure what Max wanted. "Do you want some eggs?" he asked.

Max shook his head.

Nick pushed back his chair and got down on his knees. "My name is Nick," he said slowly. He looked Max over, head to foot, and spotted his shoes. "Hey, Max," he said, sticking out his foot, "Look! We have the same shoes."

Max stared up at Nick with big, wide eyes for a long moment, studying him carefully. Nick looked back. Max's eyes were deep, dark green, and in them, Nick could see something of himself, and not just in the glassy reflection, either. Max looked away, and he scurried back into the box and pulled the flaps closed behind him, not even leaving a crack to peek out of.

Nick, it seemed, had looked inside of him somehow, and it made Max feel very, very, very UN-invisible.

“Run your fingers through my soul.
For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe,
perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once;
just once, understand.”
- Unknown

Chapter 3
The Child, Misunderstood

Max had listened as Nick finished his eggs and said good-bye to Mimi. He'd pressed his ear to the cardboard doors, listening closely. When the chair scraped the floor and he heard Nick stand up, he cowered back against the furthest corner of his box.

Thump, thump, thump.

Max reached forward and made the slightest little crack in the front of the box. A dark brown eye peeked in. "It was very nice to meet you Max," Nick said, "Is it okay if I come see you again tomorrow?" he asked.

Max wasn't sure. He didn't like that feeling he'd gotten when Nick had looked at his eyes. But he didn't want to talk to say no, either.

"Okay then," Nick said, "It's settled. I'll be here tomorrow morning." He stood up and Max stared at those red Converse sneakers and squinted, trying to see what they said on them.

He was pretty sure there were names and phone numbers.

Then the red Converse sneakers walked away.

Max inched the box closer to the door, peeking out, as Mimi let Nick out. Some part of him wanted to run after Nick, but he didn't know what he'd do even if he did, so he stayed in the box and pulled the flaps closed.

Mimi came back from the door and sighed heavily. "Did you enjoy your visit, Max?" she asked, "Nick really liked you." She started opening cupboards and stuff again, getting ready for the kids' lunch. She hummed quietly as she worked. Max just sat and listened.

Max liked that Mimi hummed.

Max listened as the other kids came inside and started flocking around the table as Mimi set out lunches for everyone. Sometimes he was jealous that they got to sit at the table and he had to sit on the floor in his box, but not jealous enough to come out.

After a few minutes she knocked on his box. "Max?" she said, "I have your cereal."

Max inched the box door open just enough for her to slide in his box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and a juice box. He clutched the cereal box to his chest and pulled box shut again.

"Why doesn't Max come out of the box?" whispered Jenny, who was a year younger than Max was.

"He likes his box," Mimi answered.

"Max is weird," whispered Sam, a little boy who was two years older than Max.

Jake's voice was lowest. At thirteen he was almost as much an authority now as Mimi. "Don't make fun of Max," Jake said.

Max liked Jake.

"But he is weird," Sam persisted. "Why would you wanna live all the time in a stupid old box anyways?" he demanded. "It's stupid."

"Max doesn't think it's stupid," Jake argued, "Do you Max?"

Max could see them all staring at his box through the crack. Part of him wanted to say no I don't think it's stupid, but he didn't dare to open his mouth. He wasn't certain how to say what he felt. He covered his face, afraid that they could see him.

"See? Max doesn't even talk, he's stupid," Sam said.

"Do not call him stupid," Mimi snapped. "Apologize to Max."

"Why? He probably didn't even hear me," Sam grumbled.

"Sam," Mimi growled.

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry Max."

Max didn't think Sam sounded very sorry at all.

Max opened up the box of cereal and pulled some out and began the process of licking off the cinnamon carefully. He liked how it felt grainy in his fingers. He rubbed his fingertips together... It reminded him of a sandbox he'd once played in, shaped like a turtle.

But that was a very long time ago now.

"Are you sure you don't want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Max?" Mimi asked, crouching down to peek into the tiny crack in the box. Max nodded. "They're really yummy," she said, patiently, "And it would be a change from your cereal..."

Max shook his head.

Mimi stood up and Max watched her mule slippers round the table. Sam and Jake were talking about hockey and Jenny was talking to Mimi about an imaginary castle she'd visited in the backyard.

Max started the crunching. They weren't talking about anything interesting now, so he didn't mind crunching through their conversations. He laid on his back in the box and stared into the darkness the box created, listening to the crunching in his ears as he counted to twenty-five each time he put a new cereal into his mouth.

When he'd finished, he realized he'd crunched too long.

"He asked if you were still playing baseball," Mimi was saying. The faucet was running ,which meant it was time for doing the dishes. Max listened carefully. Nick had asked Mimi about Jake playing baseball. He was sure this was about Nick. Max had decided he really liked Nick a lot.

"Did you tell him about hockey?" Jake asked.

"Yes," Mimi answered. Max heard her splash her hands into the water.

"Do you think Nick might come to a game sometime?" Jake asked.

"I don't see why not," Mimi replied.

Jake's voice was quiet, "What did he think about --" he cut off. Max peeked out the crack and saw Jake nodding towards his box. "You know?"

Mimi turned off the running water. "He's going to come over tomorrow," she answered.

"Think he'll write his senior papers on him?" Jake asked, "Perfect project huh? He told me in an e-mail last week he was looking into an internship at the Williams House..."

"He didn't mention that," Mimi said, "That's great."

"Yeah, they're hiring part-time help I guess, but they want all psychics or therapists or whatever he studied to be."

Mimi chucked, "He's going to be a child psychologist."

"Well there ya go," Jake laughed, "Perfect case right here."

"Which reminds me, Mister," Mimi said, her stern voice growing, "Did you get your homework done?"

Jake's voice trailed off, "Sure," he muttered.

"Why don't you go upstairs and get it set for tomorrow then?" Mimi asked, "I've had one college graduate go through this home, I'm looking forward to another one. Go."

Jake laughed, "I'm going to college to be a hockey player, Mim," he said.

"Goooo," Mimi laughed.

Max watched Jake's legs go by. Jake tapped the box, "See ya, squirt," he said as he went by.

Max hovered just behind the crack, watching Mimi carefully.

"Ah Max," Mimi hummed.

Max wondered what made her say his name, but he didn't want to speak to ask. He rolled onto his back again and stuck his feet up on the wall of the box and studied his red Converse sneakers that were just like Nick's.

"Once confined to fantasy and science fiction,
Time trael is now simply an engineering problem."
- Michio Kaku

Chapter 4
The Magical Capabilities of the Cardboard Box

Once again, the cardboard box was in the center of the front lawn when Nick arrived at Mimi's. He climbed out of the car and it beeped when it locked again. He stared at the box once more, but this time, instead of walking past it, he knelt down in front of it.

Thump, thump.

"Hey Max, it's me, Nick," he called. He crossed his legs and settled into the grass.

Max peeked out of the crack, his eyes analyzing Nick suspiciously.

He looked around, "Can I come in?"

Come in? Max had never had an adult ask to come in before. He hesitated. He wasn't sure why Nick could see through the invisibility shield, but he could. That would explain why Nick had seen him so well the night before. Max backed away from the door and pulled the flap back, squashing himself against the wall.

Nick crawled in.

It was a tight squeeze, but hunched up and hugging his knees to his chest, Nick made it inside and Max pulled the flaps to the box closed. Nick picked at a loose thread on the arm of his t-shirt.

"This is a nice box you have here, Max," Nick said, looking around. "You decorate it yourself?"

Max looked around, too. The inside of the box was very plain, just a normal box except for the markered button that was supposed to control the invisibility shield. He tried to remember if he'd hit it when he climbed inside.

Nick smiled. "You remember me, right? Nick? From yesterday? We have the same shoes?" he wiggled his feet against the floor.

Max nodded.

"Oh good," Nick said, and pretended to swipe sweat from his brow, "I'm really, really glad you didn't forget me. I didn't forget you," he added.

Max stared up at Nick with wide, watery eyes.

"Actually I thought about you a lot last night," Nick confessed. In fact, he was supposed to have been doing his midterm studying and had instead been thinking about Max and his box.

Max looked surprised.

"Yeah, about you," Nick supplied. "It was really fun because you make me smile."

Max wasn't sure what response to have so he stared at Nick's sneakers. He shifted so that his sneakers lined up with Nick's. Nick tucked his chin over his knees and they both sat, staring at the two pairs of red Converse sneakers.

"Do you wanna be my friend, Max?" Nick asked.

Max looked up. He'd never had a friend before, he thought, studying Nick.

"Cos, you know, I wouldn't mind being friends with you," Nick added.

Max nodded.

"Yeah?" Nick asked, "Yeah what? You wanna be my friend?"

Max nodded again.

Nick smiled. "Well," he said, "That's settled then. Max, you're my new best friend. Is that okay?"

Max nodded. Not only was he a friend, but a best friend. This seemed important. He shivered with excitement.

Nick looked around the box. "So, Max," he said, "What's this box do?"

Max blinked in confusion.

"Yeah, you know," Nick said. "What kind of magica capabilities does it have? Does it fly, float, drive?"

Max shook his head.

"Does it tunnel underground?"

He shook his head no again.

"Oh!" Nick's eyes widened, "Is it a time machine?"

"It's just a box."

The words hung in the air between them, ringing. Max could almost see them, that's how funny they seemed. Nick hugged his knees to his chest still and nodded slowly as they words sank between them.

"Just a box," he mumbled, "Huh."

Max looked away from Nick. He felt somehow... defeated. Nick had managed to make him speak. He stared at the wall of the box.

"It's really easy to make it a time machine, you know," Nick said.

Max looked back at Nick. This was a really funny grown up, he thought. If he'd spoken to Mimi, she would've gone crazy. She would've tried to make him talk again, would've been excited and going all mental.

Nick acted like Max spoke everyday.

Like Max talking was normal.

Max didn't wanna talk again, but he did wanna know how the box could be a time machine.

"Want me to show you how?" Nick asked.

Max nodded.

Nick took off his watch. Max watched as he unbuckled the leather band. He bent back the little spike that held it in place and stuck the watch into the wall of the box so the watch face hung next to the markered button on the wall. Nick gestured to this new addition. "Press the button," he said.

Max hesitated.

"Go on," Nick said. "Press it."

Max reached over and pressed the button.

"WOAH!" Nick cried out. He rocked and shook the box, "Oh my goodness! Hold on tight, Max!" he yelled. "Where are we going?!!"

Max stared at Nick blankly. This guy, he thought, was crazy.

After a couple seconds of shaking and rocking, Nick stopped and went, "Wow, that was scary, huh?"

Max shrugged.

Nick ignored Max's lack of enthusiasm. "C'mere," he whispered. He moved and gazed through the crack, "Oh wow," he said, "No wonder the ride was so bumpy. We've landed in the time of dinosaurs!"

Max couldn't help but be curious. He scrambled to look.

They were still sitting in the yard.

He looked at Nick.

"Use your imagination, Max," Nick whispered. "Do you see the T-Rex over there by the garage?" Nick pointed to a tree. "He's about to eat that tricera tops!" he pointed at his car. "Run tricera tops!"

Max glanced at Nick.

Nick smiled at Max. "This was how I used to hide," he explained, "When I was your age. I didn't have a box, so to get away from my life I used to imagine I was somewhere else instead." Quickly, Nick scrambled out of the box and stumbled to his feet. "Come on, Max!" he called, running across the yard, "Come explore with me!"

Max watched from the crack in the box.

Nick was halfway across the yard. "Wow!" he yelled, "Max! Max, you gotta come see this!" He waved his arms for Max to come.

Max leaned back and hugged his knees. He wanted to go. He really did. Max watched through the crack at Nick as he dropped to the grass in the sunlight and lay on his back.

"This is so incredible, Max," he called, "I wish I could share it with you."

But Max was too afraid, so he stayed where he was.

After a little time had passed and it was obvious Max wasn't going to join him, Nick got up and returned to the box. He crawled back inside and said, "You can hit the button again, Max. Send us home."

Max just stared at Nick. They'd never left, what was the point of trying to return? he wondered.

Nick reached over and hit the button next to his watch and started to rock himself, though less enthusiastically this time, and the trip was much shorter this time. He sighed when he stopped. "Too bad," he muttered, "You missed all those cool dinosaurs." He shook his head.

Max felt like telling him they didn't exist.

Nick crawled out of the box. "I'll see you tomorrow, Max," he said quietly.

Max peeked out. Max watched as Nick crossed the lawn and climbed into his car. Just like last time, Max wanted to go after him... but he stayed inside his box instead.

After Nick had gone, Max looked at the watch, curious. He reaced out and touched the magic markered button and waited. After a long moment, he peeked out the crack in the door and watched.

“Dreaming men are haunted men."
- Stephen Vincent Benet

Chapter 5
The Man Who's Been There

Nick was getting frustrated. A heap of papers were sprawled across his desk - all rejected beginnings to his essay. He hated the assignment, it was too personal. He etched out a line or two, stopped, read the sentences and sighed, balling up the page and adding it to the pile.

Besides the topic being one he didn't want to think about, Max was also distracting him. Nick couldn't help but wonder what Max was doing right now, what Max was thinking about, if Max was okay.

He went to look at his watch for about the millionth time before he realized yet again that he'd left it in the box when he left that afternoon. He wondered if Max had tried imagining anything after he left.

Nick hoped so.

He stared at the paper.

The event that changed my life the most wasn't so much an event as much as it was a lifetime escaped, he started. He re-read the words and crumpled the paper.

Nick pushed back the chair and laid down on his futon. He rolled so that he was on his back, his feet up in the air against the wall and he stared at his sneakers. He sighed. He just hoped, for Max's sake, that they didn't have too much in common.



Nick was sitting at Mimi's kitchen table the next day. The cardboard box, with Max inside, hovered just outside of the kitchen again. Max hadn't opened the door for Nick when he'd tried to knock, but he was peeking out, watching now.

"So how did Max end up here?" Nick asked as Mimi handed him a cup of apple juice.

Mimi sighed, "It was somewhat similar to when you came," she answered.

Nick looked up at her.

"I picked Max up from the hospital," she said quietly, her voice low.

Max remembered that night. His little hand softly touched the scar he'd kept from that night, and he sunk back from the door.

Nick glanced over his shoulder. "Were his parents -" he hesitated, "- caught?"

Mimi shook her head.

Nick sighed and leaned back and cupped his hands behind his head. "Coward," he muttered.

"How's that?" Mimi asked, not having caught what Nick said.

Nick scowled, "I said he was a coward."

"Who?"

"My father," Nick answered. He leaned forward on his elbows now, "Apparently his father, too."

Max watched Nick's face. Nick was staring down at the apple juice with an expression that Max couldn't quite recognize.

Mimi reached over and patted Nick's arm.

"I had to write this paper last night," Nick explained, "For one of my classes. It was on an event that altered my life forever." He sighed, "Obvioulsy I chose -" he paused, "- that - but... I don't know, it was a rough paper, and it killed me to put that stuff in writing." He shrugged.

Mimi nodded, "I'm sure it was hard."

"It's funny because it's long over, I mean I've had a great life since," Nick smiled at Mimi, "Thanks to you."

"You deserved it."

"It's been almost fifteen years since I even saw him last," Nick said, "But you know I still have nightmares?"

Max felt breathless. Nick had nightmares, too? He wondered if the same monster crawled into Nick's dreams like his own.

Mimi frowned. "Honey, unfortunately things like that don't know the boundaries of time. They don't have limitations."

"I know," Nick nodded. He picked up the cup of apple juice and swirled it a little bit before taking a sip. "I guess I kind of had this notion that if I learned how to help other people get through it that I'd get through it myself."

"You did get through it, Nick," she said, "You did. You did amazing. I'm so very proud of you."

Max watched Mimi wrap her arms around Nick's shoulders. He wanted to hug Nick, too. But he didn't dare to.

When Mimi stopped hugging Nick, he took the last gulp of juice and stood up. Max watched Nick wash his glass in the sink and place it in the strainer on the counter. He turned around and his eyes fell on the box.

"How bad was it?" he asked.

"Bad," Mimi answered.

"Worse than mine?"

"You never told me how bad yours was," Mimi said, "And neither has he."

Nick nodded. "I barely told myself," he said.

"The man who has no imagination has no wings.”
- Muhammad Ali

Chapter 6
The Fine Art of Imagination

When Nick got to Mimi's the next morning, the rain was coming down in buckets. He turned off his windshield wipers and ran for the door, pulling his jacket up over his head as he ran, clicking the button for the lock. He stepped through the door of the house without knocking and kicked off the red Converse sneakers at the door. "Hello? Mimi?" he called out into the house.

Mimi came out of the kitchen, carrying a box of cinnamon toast crunch and a tiny carton of orange juice. "There you are," she said, "I was wondering if you were coming today."

Nick was an hour later than he'd come the past three days. "The traffic was just -" Nick shuddered for dramatic effect. He motioned at the cereal and juice, "What's that?"

"Max hates the rain."

Nick paused. "Okay then."

"Come on," Mimi led Nick up the stairs. The house was so familar to Nick, though, that he could've navigated to the boys' room by himself. He smiled when they stepped inside. Nothing had changed since he'd left, except that Jake had settled in quite comfortably on what used to be Nick's side of the room. The bunk beds, which Nick, too, had once slept on when he was the youngest at Mimi's house, were just as they'd always been. Nick couldn't help but smile at those... Ah the adventures those bunk beds had provided...

And there in the center of the room was the cardboard box.

Mimi knelt down and knocked on the door, "I have your cereal Max, and guess what? Nick's here to see you."

The box door opened ever so slightly and Mimi slid the box of cereal and the juice into the gap before it closed. She got back up with a groan and looked around the room, as Nick was doing.

"Look different?" she asked.

"It looks exactly the same," he answered.

Mimi smiled. "Well, make yourself at home, then. But don't expect too much. Max hates the rain."

Nick waited until he heard Mimi step off the very last of the stairs before he went over to the box. He sat down and knocked. "Max, it's me, Nick, can I come in?"

Max opened the box flap.

Nick crawled inside. He watched as Max pulled a handful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch out of the box and start licking the cinnamon off. "Can I have some?" he asked.

Max held out the box.

Nick reached in and pulled out a handful of cereal too, but he skipped the licking and started chewing.

Frantic, Max counted his chews. Only eight! Max's eyes grew wide.

"What?" Nick asked.

Max waited. Surely Nick was about to die! A horrorsticken look had covered his entire face.

"What's the matter, buddy?" Nick asked.

"You didn't chew it!" Max said.

Nick contemplated this. "I chewed," he said.

"No! You only chewed it eight," Max said.

"Eight?" Nick laughed, "Well how many times am I supposed to chew it?" he asked.

"Twenty-five."

Nick blinked in surprise. "Twenty-five?" he said, "Wow, that's a lot of chewing. Stuff like cereal would be nothing by the time I chewed it twenty-five times."

Max stared at Nick.

"I think if it's really small and swallowable that you should be okay with less than twenty-five chews," Nick said.

Max shook his head.

"Sure," Nick said, "If you got it all chewed up and you're only at twenty-one, don't you think that's okay?"

Max kept shaking his head.

Nick took some more cereal and started chewing. He was careful to chew it twenty-five times, even though by the time he got past fifteen there wasn't much there to chew.

Max relaxed considerably.

"You know," Nick said, "That's the second time you've talked to me."

Max looked away.

"It's not so bad, is it Max? This talking stuff?" Nick smiled, "I mean, just think, if you didn't talk, I wouldn't have learned that I should chew twenty-five times, right?" He patted Max's knee.

When Max didn't react, Nick decided to try another tactic. "Hey Max," he said, "Did you ever see a pirate ship before?"

Max looked at him out f the corner of his eye, trying not to seem interested.

Nick pushed the box doors opened and pointed at the bunk beds. "See that right there?" he said, "The bunk beds make a great pirate ship."

Max peeked out of the box at the old bed frame.

Nick crawled out of the box. "See," he said, "The bottom bunk is like the deck, and the captain stands here..." Nick knelt down by Max's pillows, his stocking feet stretching out behind him. It was funny, he could remember being able to actually stand when he did this. "And this..." he crawled over to the ladder to the top bunk, "This is the mast, and the look out can go up to the crows nest..." he crawled up the ladder to the top bunk and perched himself on the edge of the mattress, "And can look around for enemy ships."

Max inched a little bit out of the box.

"And - oh! Oh no! Guess what, Max?" Nick gasped.

Max came out a little bit more.

"Look, there's one right over there!" Nick pointed to Jake's bed. "And they have a cannon!"

Max stood up and looked over the top of his box at Jake's bed. Jake hadn't made his bed. It was all messy.

"Quick, Max, you gotta be captain."

Max hesitated.

"Max! Hurry!"

Max crawled onto the bottom bunk by his pillows and sat down on them, but leaned so he could still look up at Nick. "Turn to starboard! We got ourselves a full on attack!" Nick called out. He grabbed one of Sam's stuffed animals. "Load the cannon!" he called. Then, "Ba-BOOM!" he launched the stuffed animal across the room and watched it land a couple feet to the left of Jake's bed.

Max's eyes widened. Sam never let Max play with his stuffed toys. He wondered if he should warn Nick that Sam was very, very mean when Max played with his toys or if Sam would let Nick play with them, since Nick was a grown up.

A very strange grown up, but still a grown up.

"Hoist the mainstays!" Nick called. "Got the helm, Max?"

Max nodded, even though he wasn't sure what a helm was.

"Ba-BOOM!" cried Nick, launching another of Sam's stuffed animals across the room.

The door opened and Jake came in the room, carrying his book bag, just as the stuffed animal landed at his feet. He looked up. "Nick!" he cried, a smile breaking across his face, "Hey!"

"Argh!" Nick called, winking, "It's Longjohn Nick to you, swabbie!" He waved his arm at the bottom bunk, "And this harrr is my cap'n -- Cap'n Max Sparrow."

Jake's eyes widened as he noticed Max. "How did you -"

"Are ye friend or foe, matey?" Nick demanded.

Jake looked at the bunk bed and at his bed. "Foe!" he cried, dropping his book bag to the floor. He scooped up the stuffies Nick had already thrown over and jumped up onto his bed, "Beware of Jakey Jones!" he cried and threw one of the stuffed animals back across the room.

"Enemy fire, Cap'n Max!" called Nick, "Enemy fire!" Nick rolled onto the top bunk the rest of the way and grabbed another stuffed animal and threw it. "Ba-BOOM!" he called as it missed Jake by a mile.

"Argh, I'll get you Cap'n Max Sparrow! And your crew!" Jake called, tossing a stuffed teddy bear at Nick, which hit him square in the head.

"Oh! OH!" Nick cried, kicking his legs. He rolled to the ladder, "Cap'n-- he - he - he got me," Nick wailed dramatically. He slid down the ladder, and hit the floor and leaned against the bed, "Oh cap'n, my cap'n," he gasped, then he dropped to the floor and rolled under the bed.

Max leaned over the edge and looked at him.

"You have to avenge me, Max," whispered Nick.

"Aye!" called Jake, "Are ye going to avenge your crew, Cap'n Max?"

Max looked over at Jake, who was standing in the middle of his unmade bed, his school books spilling across the carpet from his bag. He looked down at Nick, who had his eyes closed and his tongue sticking out, laying half under the bed, holding the offending teddy bear to his chest.

Max stood up on the bottom bunk. He hesitated.

Nick peeked.

Max took hold of Gake the Giraffe and threw him at Jake the pirate.



Mimi was sitting downstairs in the kitchen when she heard a bang and several loud shouts from upstairs. She stared at the ceiling. She hadn't heard those kinds of sounds in quite awhile... but she had a feeling she knew exactly what was going on.

Mimi trotted up the stairs and opened the door to the boys bedroom to find Max standing triumphantly on Jake's bed, both Jake and Nick laying on the floor with their tongues hanging out, and every stuffed animal in the room somewhere on the floor. All three beds were a mess and Max, dear little Max, had left little red Converse sneaker-sized footprints all over the bedspreads.

Mimi wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry.

Nick's eyes popped open. He stared up at her from the floor. He smiled sheepishly.

"Don't worry, we'll clean it up," he mumbled.

"You don't even live here anymore and I still have to come up here to check on you," Mimi said, shaking her head. "I thought you were --"

"About to come through the ceiling?" Nick asked, grinning.

"And I try to make you proud
But for crying out loud
Just give me a chance to hide away..."
- Jars of Clay, "He"

Chapter 7
The Boy Who Was
Nineteen Years Ago...


It was four o'clock in the morning, Christmas day, when Mimi's phone rang. The trill of the phone broke through the heavy new-fallen-snow silence that had crystalized the house. Mimi's hand groped through the darkness of the room until she'd clasped the receiver and brought it to her ear. "Hello?" her voice was low with sleep and muffled by the pillow she was still face-down on.

"Mim? It's Justin," came the familiar voice of one of Mimi's past children. Justin had come into Mimi's care when he was fourteen and had gone on to become a pediatrician at a local hospital. "I- I didn't know who else to call."

Mimi, alert by the need of one of her kids, even if he had grown up, sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. "Justin, what's the matter?" she asked.

Justin's voice was hesitant, "Mim, there's - there's a boy here, at the hospital. We've taken him into protective custody, and - well," he paused, "It's Christmas," he said.

Mimi rubbed her eyes, "What happened?"

"Come down and I'll explain it to you while you fill out the paperwork," Justin said. "Please, Mim."

"I'll be right there."

Luckily, Mimi's brother, George, was there for the holiday and she was able to leave all the kids with him while she went down to the hospital. Mimi kicked on her boots and pulled her jacket on over her warm, fluffy house coat, and shuffled through the ankle-deep snow to her car.

When Mimi came through the doors at the ER, the nurse on duty at the reception desk recognized her. "Hey Mimi," she said. She glanced around, "No kids? What's wrong?"

"Dr. Oberhaus called me," Mimi said by way of explanation.

"Oh you must be here for that poor little boy," the nurse nodded, "Hold on a second." She turned to her phone and started dialing numbers. A moment later, "Dr. Oberhaus? Mimi Taylor is here."

Mimi looked around the waiting room. A little girl played with a pile of blocks in the corner while her mother sat in a plastic chair, massaging her forehead and weeping silently. A young man was holding an ice pack to his left eye in another chair a few feet away. The waiting rooms at hospitals always made her stomach flippety-flop and she quickly looked away, back to the nurse.

"Dr. Oberhaus is on his way down," the nurse said.

Mimi wished she remembered the woman's name.

A couple moments passed before Justin came through the double doors to the patients area, wearing the long white coat that was a doctor's trademark. He was carrying a clipboard and a sheath of papers a mile thick. Justin adjusted his glasses and struck out his arm, "Mim!" he called when he saw her, and wrapped that free arm around her. "I wish this was under better circumstances," he muttered, "I've really missed you."

"You know where Iive, you could visit," Mimi said, pretending to be grumpy. She hugged Justin tightly. "Look at you, playing doctor," she smiled.

Justin grinned. "Thanks to you," he said, and he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Now tell me about this kid you've dragged me down here to see?" Mimi asked.

Justin pulled her along through the double doors and through the bowels of the hospital. Everything smelled like sick and ammonia. Mimi hated the way hospitals smelled. "There was an emergency call about two-ish," he explained, "From a little boy across town saying his mother was hurt." Justin pushed opened some doors that said medical staff only and led Mimi down a very plain corridor. She felt like a VIP with a backstage pass. "When the emergency team got there, they found the results of some very severe domestic violence," Justin barrelled on as they walked. Their footsteps echoed in unison against the empty white walls.

"Very severe?" Mimi repeated his tone.

Justin nodded. "Mim, this poor kid's been through Hell."

"What happened?"

"He hasn't said," Justin admitted.

Mimi frowned. "Is he hurt?"

In response, Justin pushed open a door that led into a private hospital room. A bed with animals painted on the headboard was pushed into one corner, and on the bed, in a mess of pillows and softest blue blankets, was a little boy. No more than six, Mimi calculated, analyzing him. He was asleep, his brown hair dirty and disheveled. His little chest was bound in bandages, indicating rib cage damage, and he had dark, swollen patches on his face, by his eyes and a small split across his nose.

Mimi covered her mouth.

Justin was biting his lips.

"Where's his parents?"

"His father's in police custody," Justin answered. His voice faded, halted, hesitant.

"And his mother?" Mimi asked. When he didn't answer immediately, Mimi looked back at him. "Justin?"

Justin swallowed. "They did everything they could," he answered.

Mimi turned back to the little boy with a heavy sigh.

"Mim, I knew that if anyone could help him... it would be you. And, well, we took him into protective custody, and I asked them if I could contact you instead of the state ward that usually takes protective custody kids. I knew he'd be better off going to you." Justin sighed, "The kid needs a break, he needs -" The doctor shook his head, "It's not fair. And on Christmas," he added.

Mimi nodded. "Thank you for calling me," she mumbled, "You're right. He will be better off with me." She stepped up to the bed and gently took hold of the little boy's hand.

She had no clue who he was, but she already loved him more than he'd ever been loved in his life.

"What's his name, do you know?" she asked.

"We think it's Nicky," Justin whispered, "That's all his mother kept asking was 'Where's Nicky?' the entire time they were trying to save her."

Mimi looked at the sleeping form of the little boy on the bed. "Nicky," she whispered. She reached down and softly brushed the hair off his forehead, "Well, it's going to be okay now, Nicky," she said quietly. "It's going to be okay now."



Christmas wrapping lay everywhere around the living room at Mimi's house. Kids were perched on various seats, hugging their gifts to their chests. Mimi started collecting shreds of paper and discarded ribbons and pushing them into a trashbag. With a glance around the room, she smiled - everyone seemed pleased with their gifts.

Well, she realized, almost everybody.

Nicky was sitting awkwardly in a large, overstuffed maroon chair, wearing footed pajamas that were too big for him carefully cradling an unwrapped package on his lap. He was staring at the glittering ribbon with the saddest eyes Mimi had ever seen. His messy, but at least clean, brown hair hung over his forehead in disarray - a look that Mimi would eventually come to tolerate and even adore.

She dropped the trashbag and walked over to him, wading through the remaining wrapper shards, and sat on the arm of the chair. With a gentle touch, she pushed back the hair from his eyes and forehead and asked, "Aren't you going to open your present from Santa, Nicky?"

He shook his head.

"Why not sweetie?" she asked.

"I want to save it," he whispered.

"Save it?" she asked, "What on earth for?"

"I just want to keep it," he said.

"But if you open it up, you can play with what's inside," she promised.

Nicky looked up at her. "I never had one before."

Silence had seemed to fall in the room just before he'd uttered the words. Everyone's eyes were looking at him. His tiny fingers moved across the smooth surface of the wrapping paper and the ribbon and his eyes travelled around its contours. He looked back up at Mimi. "I just want to keep it. It's too special."

"What lies behind us and what lies before us
are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."
- Ralph W. Emerson

Chapter 8
Explorer Max

"Knock, knock."

Max pulled open the flap on his box and peeked out, then quickly scurried backward to make room for Nick. Nick slid inside the box and pulled the flap shut behind him. He looked at Max.

It was sunny outside, and Mimi had dragged the cardboard box out onto the grass again. She figured if nothing else, Max could breathe semi-fresh air through the crack in the box. It was better than nothing.

"Hey Max," Nick said, "I have a surprise for you."

Max eyed Nick.

"Wanna know what it is?" Nick asked.

Max nodded.

"C'mon," Nick crawled back out of the box and held the flap open behind him for Max to follow suit. Max sat in the box and stared out hesitantly, studying the knees of Nick's jeans. Nick bent down and peered into the box. "Maa-aaax," he called, "Are you comin' lil buddy?"

Max hesitated.

"It's a really cool surprise," Nick persisted.

Max crawled out of the box and stood beside it, staring up at Nick with big, wide eyes. Nick smiled. "See? Not so bad. C'mon, the first part's in my car."

Nick enthusiastically lead Max to the silver car that sat at the edge of the yard, by the street. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, unlocking the door, and opened the back passenger door. He reached inside and withdrew a pair of two yellowish-tan canvas hats with long brown drawstrings. He sat down on the seat and motioned Max over to stand before him. He smiled into Max's eyes and held up one of the hats. "This, Max, is your explorer hat."

Max looked at the hat.

"When you have on this hat," Nick explained, "You're no longer just Max," he said, and he slid the cap onto Max's head, "You're Explorer Max," he continued, pulling the drawstring. "And Explorer Max isn't afraid of anything at all! Explorer Max is the most bravest person in the entire world."

Max touched the strands of the drawstring that hung down from his chin.

"And when I have my explorer hat on," Nick added, pulling his own onto his head, "I'm Explorer Nick." He tugged his own drawstring up to his chin, making a silly face that almost made Max giggle. "I'm not as brave as you are, but I'm close." He smiled and grabbed Max's hand again. "Can you feel the brave seeping into you from the hats?" he asked.

Max shrugged.

"These hats travelled all the way from Africa," Nick said. "They were used on a safari. You know what a safari is, Max?"

Max shook his head no.

"A safari is where people go on this craaazy adventure and they see all kinds of wild animals!" his voice pitched with excitment, "Like lions and tigers and elephants and giraffes and zebras and warthogs and antelope and buffalo and babboons and rhinos and hippos and aligators and bears and -" Nick stopped abruptly, and a smile spread across his face, "And who knows what else," he breathed the last bit.

Max's eyes had grown wide with all the names of animals that Nick had listed off.

Nick slid off the seat of the car, onto his knees and grabbed the edge of Max's blue jacket. "Do you wanna see all those animals, Max?"

Max nodded.

Nick smiled, "Close your eyes."

Max closed his eyes.

"Now, imagine in your head that we're in Africa. It's a jungle," Nick's voice was barely above a whisper. "And everywhere you look theres trees and vines and leaves and mud and... and moss." Max's mouth curled into a smile as Nick's voice painted a picture in Max's mind. "And you and me, we're exploring, seeking out the most amazing thing in the whole world."

"What?" Max asked.

The best part about Max, Nick thought, was how he spoke when he was most into the moment. Nick smiled. "The perfect hot fudge sundae."

Max opened his eyes. "In the jungle?" He looked at Nick like he was crazy.

Nick nodded, "In the jungle."

Max hesitated.

"Trust me, Max," he said. "Do you trust me?"

Max stared up at Nick, into his wildly hopeful brown eyes. He's so much like you were, Max heard Mimi's words echo through his head. Nick, Max thought, understands. Nick, Max thought, made him feel un-invisible. No grown up had ever done that - not even Mimi, in all her kindness.

Surely, if someone could make a little boy like Max visible, then that someone could be trusted. Couldn't they?

Or was Nick just like every other adult that Max had ever met in his whole life?
Nick held out his hand.

Max stared at it; and then Max looked at his own hand for a long moment, then looked at Nick's again. It was big, wide, with long, thin fingers that had chewed-down nails with dirt stuck under them. Nick had wide knuckles and writer's bump on his left hand.

Nick could still remember the first time a man had extended a hand to him, how afraid he'd been to trust a grown up's palm... how scared he was, certain that men were dangerous creatures, that they could strike at any moment.

"I won't let anything hurt you, Max," Nick said in a low, serious tone.

Max slowly lifted his arm and dropped his little hand into Nick's outstretched palm and NIck wrapped his fingers around it, folding Max's hand into his own.

"Okay then," Nick stood up, kicked his car door closed, hit the lock and tucked the key into his pocket once more. "Let's go on our big adventure. Don't forget to imagine the trees and the moss and the mud and the - the -" Nick pointed upwards and gasped, "The monkeys!"

"Monkeys?" Max asked, he looked up where Nick was pointing and squinted against the afternoon sun.

"Use your imagination, Max!" Nick called, "Quick, the monkeys!"

Nick broke into a short jog, tugging Max along at a run, headed down the sidewalk. Max looked over his shoulder and slowly, slowly... the fence became tall, wavering trees that loomed over their heads and the telephone poles more trees, covered with thick moss, and their wires vines from which long, shaggy-haired orangutangs hung, with long, malicious teeth like a shark's, chasing after the two explorers, as they ran over roots and underbrush, Nick's heels kicking up mud as they went, splashing and laughing through the jungle.

"Getting over a painful experience is much
like crossing monkey bars.
You have to let go at some point
in order to move forward.”
- Unknown

Chapter 8
Important Lessons

The monkeys chased them for four whole blocks, until Nick thought his lungs were going to explode from the air drawing in and out of them. He looked down at Max, whose cheeks were pink from running, and he quickly caught Max up in his arms, hugged him to his chest, and dove for the soft grass of a random yard, being careful to cradle Max safely in the cage of his arms as they rolled to a stop, and gasped loudly into the atmosphere.

"Oh man that was close," Nick wheezed, rolling so he and Max were laying side by side in the grass. Max panted, too, in response. "Those monkeys," Nick gaspd, "They almost got us."

"Yeah, that was close," Max agreed.

They laid there like that, staring up at the sky, catching their breath. Two boys on the dusty ground. Nick swiveled his head as best he could and studied the side of Max's face. A short scar he hadn't noticed before fled from Max's hairline across his jaw to his chin on the right side. Nick frowned.

"What happened to your cheek, Max?" Nick asked, reaching out and carefully running a finger along the light pink flesh.

Max's hand rushed to the side of his face and covered it. He shook his head, his eyes wide.

Nick sat up. He hesitated, then he glanced down the street both ways and reached for the hem of his shirt. He lifted it up and turned, so Max could see his back. Raw lines cut across the skin there. Nick glanced over his shoulder as Max got onto his knees, too, and inched closer to see Nick's scars. His fingers touched them and Nick's back quivered from the touch.

"Do they hurt?" Max asked.

"Only on the inside," Nick answered, "In my heart."

"Yeah, mine, too," Max replied.

Nick sat down and dropped his shirt. "Mimi says we're a lot alike, you and me," Nick said.

Max nodded.

"I used to think my dad hurt me because I deserved it," Nick said quietly. He hugged his knees to his chest and tucked his chin over them and stared down at his red Converse sneakers. "Do you ever think that Max?"

Max nodded.

Nick sighed, "It's hard, huh?" he asked.

Max's eyes were wet. He didn't dare to move. His neck felt really scratchy. He rubbed it, wishing it would stop burning like it was.

"You didn't deserve it, Max," Nick whispered. "Nobody does. You're a great kid."

Max stared at his feet, too, like Nick was.

Nick glanced at him. "I love you, Max."

Max looked back up at Nick, their eyes met, and Max hesitated. He looked away.

Nick took a deep breath, "He can't hurt you anymore, Max," he said after a long pause.

Max crawled across the grass and sat down closer to Nick, forcing himself under Nick's arm and pressing his cheek against Nick's chest. Nick smiled down at the crop of reddish hair and wrapped his arm around the little boy, and tugged him back down into the grass.



The two boys had laid in the grass quite awhile, Nick pointing out pictures in the clouds while Max just stayed quiet and listened. When they'd rested a long while, their explorer hat brims blocking the sun, Nick finally pulled Max to his feet and said, "We better go finish exploring for that hot fudge sundae, huh, or we'll never find it before dinner time." Nick smiled and reached for Max's jacket zipper.

Max and Nick took their time walking this time, since they were no longer being chased by monkeys. Nick clutched Max's hand tight in his own and they crossed wild rivers (streets) and trekked over mountain ranges (hills) until they reached a small village - downtown. Nick smiled, "Ah we're almost there," he murmured, and he led Max along through the streets, past rumbling stampeding elephants (traffic) until they'd reached a small cafe.

The door jingled when Nick pushed the door opened, and the whole room inside smelled like warm waffles and melted chocolate. Max took a deep breath and was almost positive that one of the wild animals must've eaten them whole because this place smelled so good it had to be heaven.

"What kind of ice cream do you like Max?" Nick asked, crouching down to be on eye level with the little boy.

Max shrugged.

Nick stood up and looked into a large glass case that had all the different flavors in huge vats so you could see them. He smiled, "C'mere, lil guy," he said, and he scooped Max up off the floor and hoisted him onto his hip. "Look in there," Nick said, pointing, "Which one looks good?"

Max stared down into the cooler and gnawed on his lips. Nick stared up at his face as his eyes travelled over each flavor, carefully analyzing it. Finally, Max pointed at a creamy colored one labeled caramel bananas foster. "Mmm," Nick mumbled, nodding, "Yeah that sounds delicious." He carried Max to the counter, where a high school aged girl stood, wearing a Red Sox baseball cap and her hair in little pig tails.

"We'll have a small hot fudge sundae with the caramel banana foster," Nick said, "And rainbow sprinkles on top! And two cherries and two spoons." He winked.

The girl rang up the order and set to work constructing the sundae.

When the sundae was ready, Nick grabbed the sundae, the spoons and a handful of napkins and led the way to a table set in the window of the cafe. Max sat down in the chair beside Nick and Nick stuck the spoons into the sundae.

"Eat up, Explorer Max," Nick said, taking his own spoon and swooping up a big helping of ice cream, fudge, whip cream and cherry. He smiled.

Max carefully took the spoon and scooped up some, too.

"Mmmm," Nick hummed. He looked down at Max, "Wow, this is good, huh?" he asked.

Max stuck his spoonful into his mouth. The fudge seemed to melt on his tongue, and the ice cream burst with flavor and the cherry was cool and just a little crunchy, like cherries should be. He grinned and nodded up at Nick. "Mmm," he echoed.

Nick smiled, and the two boys continued working on the sundae.

All went well until they were getting closer to the end and Max accidentally knocked a huge glob of fudge and ice cream off the spoon and onto the table and his shirt.

He froze the instant the ice cream left the spoon and closed his eyes, wincing away from Nick in a motion so fast, Nick hardly comprehended it. "What - Max, what's the matter?" he looked at the little boy, whose eyes were squinted shut tight, in confusion. "What's wrong?" Nick grabbed some napkins and quickly wiped up the mess on the table.

Max peeked out of one eye. "I made a mess," he croaked.

"Yeah, so?" Nick asked.

"Aren't you mad at me?" Max asked.

Nick shrugged, "Accidents happen, buddy," he said, shrugging.

Max stared at Nick in disbelief.

"What?" Nick asked. He reached for Max's shirt with the napkins. Max pulled back. "Max, I'm just gonna wipe your shirt, bud."

Max sat stiffly and nervous as Nick's hand swiped away the ice cream that dripped down his front. When he finished, Nick's palm balled the napkin and he withdrew. Max relaxed, letting out a breath he hadn't even realize he'd held.

"Max?" Nick asked.

"Aren't I in trouble?" Max questioned, "For being messy?"

Nick paused, letting the sentence hang between them. He looked down at the table. Then, he did it. He reached out for the mostly finished cup, with some residue of mostly-melted icre cream left inside, and he upended it right on the table. The melted ice cream spattered and slunk across the table top and dripped over the edge onto the lap of Nick's jeans.

Nick stood up, "Oh my gosh," he said loudly, trying to get the girl at the counter's attention, "That was an accident!"

Max stared, wide eyed, at Nick.

The girl at the counter grabbed a sponge and came over, "It's okay," she said calmly and swiped at the table top with the sponge, while Nick used the remainder of the napkins to help and sop up his dripping lap.

Max's eyes never left Nick's face.

When the mess was cleared up, Nick looked down at Max. "Accidents happen," he said simply, "They happen everyday."

"How nice to look at a photograph
of mother or father taken many years ago.
You see them as you remember them.
But as people live on, they change completely.
That is why I think a photograph can be kind."
- Albert Einstein

Chapter 10
The Polaroid's Secret

When Max got home that night, he sat in his box licking the cinnamon off his Cinnamon Toast Crunch and thinking about the mess at the ice cream place. He thought about how Nick hadn't gotten mad at him, how Nick hadn't screamed and yelled... and he thought about how vastly different Nick was from everyone else he'd ever known...

Nick, however, wasn't thinking about the mess at the cafe. Nick, when he got home, laid on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the scars on his back. He closed his eyes.

Nick leaned over the bed and reached underneath. There was a cardboard box there, and he carefully lifted the lid off the box and started filtering through the things inside... his high school diploma, the acceptance letter to the college, his car's title, various poems and pictures... a locket that belonged to his mother.. and then, at the very bottom, an old, fading Polaroid photograph.

He rolled back onto the bed and held the Polaroid up over his head, staring up at it instead of the ceiling.

It was the only one he had left of them all together. It was a Christmas picture, taken the year before he went to live with Mimi, possibly to the minute. Their family Christmas tree stood behind them, glowing happily, simply, wonderfully. There were no presents, but they didn't need them, it seemed. His mother was kneeling down on the carpet, wearing a beautiful white dress with tiny holly and red berries printed on it and a red apron tied around her waist. She had the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen in his entire life... and she had her arms around him, a tiny five year old boy with the stars of joy gleaming in his eyes.

But the most amazing part was his father. Standing straight, with focused, serious eyes, a scotch in his hand yet untouched, and a smile on his lips. Nick stared up at that smile and wondered if he still fooled people with it, like he used to.

Like he almost managed to fool Nick every time he looked at the picture.

Nick remembered when he was little and he'd look at that Polaroid and believe in the lie that it told the world. We're fine every face in the image screamed, right down to the little Santa Clauses on the pajamas he'd been wearing. His own eyes stared out at him, telling him we're fine, really, you were happy here.

But the Polaroid kept secrets.

There was a knock on the door and Nick sat up and chucked the Polaroid back into the shoebox, jamming the lid on. "Yeah-uhh?" he called.

The door creaked open and his room mate, Raine, a petite girl with short, spikey black hair and deep, deep brown eyes poked her head around the frame. "I'm making hot chocolate," she said, smiling at him, "Do ya want?"

Raine was basically Tinkerbelle, if Tink was a normal sized human being and also Native American.

"Nawh I'm good," Nick answered. He pushed the shoe box back under the bed. His voice was thick.

Raine pushed the door open a bit further and leaned against the jamb. "What's up?" she asked, crossing her arms and legs and raising an eyebrow at Nick. He shook his head. "Oh come on Nickles, I can tell something is. You don't just sit around all mopey like for no reason. Spill the beans."

Nick hesitated. He'd never really told Raine much about his past, she barely was aware that he was the product of a group home, not to mention how he'd landed there. He didn't really feel like bridging that gap tonight, either. "There's this kid I'm working with," he said instead, turning the conversation to Max, "And he's in a box."

Raine laughed, "A box?"

"Yeah, a cardboard box."

Raine lowered to the carpet and crossed her legs sitting... well... Indian style. "Why?"

Nick took a deep breath. "I think it's because it's something he can control to an extent. There's a world in the box and he can control that world and it's safe because it's his. He can choose who gets in, who can see him, et-cetera."

Raine gnawed her lower lip. "Abuse case?"

Nick thought of Max's scar. "Yeah."

"Bad?" she asked.

Nick nodded.

"Poor kid," she shook her head. "How long have you been working with him?"

"I dunno," Nick answered, "A week maybe. I'm just trying to be his friend, you know, nothing like really, super psycho-analytical."

"Sometimes that's what it takes with kids," Raine said with a shrug. "Any progress?"

"He talks now," Nick answered, smirking.

"So he lived in a box and he didn't talk?"

Nick nodded, "Yeah."

"Wow," Raine shook her head, "Lonely lil guy I'm guessing, huh?"

Nick shrugged, "I was the same way when I was his age."

Raine studied him a long moment. She struggled to her feet. "You're still pretty quiet."

Nick snorted. "Quiet? Me?"

"Yeah, you seem introverted."

Nick shook his head, "That's only because you haven't seen my wild side yet."

Raine smiled, "Well, I wouldn't mind seeing it sometime." She turned back to the door. "You sure you don't want hot chocolate?" she asked.

"Yeah, thanks though," Nick answered, flopping backwards onto the mattress as the door closed behind her.

"Family isn't about whose blood you have.
It's about who you care about."
- Unknown

Chapter 11
No More Families

Nick was laying on his back in the grass outside the home, his head inside the box, the rest of him outside. Max had pulled the flaps over Nick's shoulders so that they were only open wide enough for his neck to stick out through. Sunshine streamed down and snuck in through the crack. Nick felt like his body were baking, but this was the only way Max would hang out today. He didn't feel like going on an adventure, and had made Nick leave the explorer helmets in the car.

"So I've been talking all morning," Nick said, rolling his eys back to look at Max, who was pressed against the far wall of the box, his red Converse sneakers on either side of Nick's head. "Why don't you give it a go? What're you thinking about?"

Max shook his head. Today was not a day to talk.

Nick sighed, "I thought we were past this no talking thing, Max?" he asked.

Max just shook his head again. Nick just didn't understand.

Suddenly there was the sound of a car door slamming and Nick sat up, his head pulling open the box flaps as he went. He blinked in the obscenely bright sunlight, and Max squealed and grabbed the flaps to the box.

Nick turned and saw a pick-up truck had pulled up behind his car and a couple was walking up the path to the door of the house. The woman was average in looks, with blonde hair and kind eyes and was clutching a teddy bear with a blue ribbon around his neck in her hands, a designer purse hoisted over her shoulder. The man was taller than her, skinny, with tightly curly hair and a pronounced chin that looked like it had been carved out of a single block of material. He caught up to her, though he'd been behind, locking the doors, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder and smiled at her, but she had eyes only for the building ahead of them, staring up, hopeful, with a watery expression.

Nick glanced at the box, then at the door to the home. The couple didn't seem to notice him, or Max's box - they were far enough across the lawn that they were out of the couple's immediately intake of the building.

The front door opened and Mimi stepped out on to the stoop. She was wiping her hands on a dish cloth, having obviously been alerted by one of the kids that the couple was there, and smiled at them warmly, inviting them in. Her eyes darted to Nick as they stepped inside and she turned to join them. She winked and gave him the crossed-fingers hand sign before disappearing back into the house.

Nick turned back to the box and knocked.

Knock, knock.

Max hesitated.

"They're inside now, Max, it's okay, it's just me," Nick promised.

Max released the flaps and they opened a little bit. Nick crawled inside this time, tucking his knees under his chin, and pulled the box flaps closed the way Max liked them. In the darkness inside the box, it was cooler than in the sun outside. Nick looked Max over for a long moment, then asked, "Do you know who those people are here about?"

In Nick's experience, people made appointments to look into adopting children from the group home, and when Mimi made appointments for them to visit the actual home, she had already interviewed them several times and told them about one child in particular. Usually, the group home visit was more like going to a zoo, but with Mimi it was more like a formal introduction.

"Sam," Max whispered.

Nick took a deep breath. He'd been worried it'd been about Max. Though why the thought had worried him, he wasn't sure. Other than the fact that it would take someone really special to figure out about the box and how it worked and what was going on in that little mind of Max's and Nick was certain those people, though kindly looking enough, would not understand the box.

"Is Sam excited?" Nick asked.

Max shrugged. "Sam hates me," he answered, his voice raspy from disuse.

"I'm sure Sam doesn't hate you," Nick said, but he couldn't really be sure because he'd never really met Sam for more than a few minutes and that was in the aftermath of the pirating adventure in which Sam came into the room to discover his stuff had been thrown about as bombs to conquer the enemy ship.

Max looked away from Nick, at th grain of the box and rested his head against it.

"At least you'll get the top bunk now," Nick said with a laugh. "That's always the best part of the older kids getting a new home," he added knowledgably. "You get the better beds."

"I don't want the top bunk," Max answered. "My box fits in the bottom."

Nick had never thought about what Max did with the box when he slept, but this seemed fair. He doubted Mimi would make Max move to the top bunk anyways. Unless just for the sake of principle and showing Max he could sleep without the box, though Nick decided he would strongly discourage Mimi from forcin Max out of the comfort zone.

Nick studied Max for a long moment, trying to put himself back into that place where Max was today. When Nick had been small, he'd been one of the only ones not to get a family from Mimi's house. He remembered children coming and going and being selected for families and disappearing out the door, onto new and exciting lives that didn't include the group home.

"Mim," Nick had asked when he was nine and his best friend, a little boy who had come to live with them the year before named Silas, had been adopted, "Why don't I ever get families to come and meet me?"

"Because," Mimi had answered, "I haven't met anyone special enough yet to take you away from me."

Mimi had become Nick's family after a long while, and when Nick had finally gotten a family visit, when he was thirteen, he found the experience most uncomfortable and had acted out as a result, certain that the only reason Mimi had brought the family to meet him was because she was finally sick of him, finally ready to rid him from her life. He'd smashed one of her favorite plates against the counter, and yelled and screamed until she'd finally suggested that maybe - just maybe - he was acting this way because he didn't want a family - and Nick had burst into tears.

"No more families," he'd cried into her shoulders.

"No more families," Mimi had agreed, rubbing his back.

Nick looked at Max. "Have you ever had a family come, Max?" he asked.

Max shook his head.

He'd only been at the home with Mimi for a few months, though, so this made sense. Plus, being in the box, Max probably wouldn't have been the best idea for Mimi to suggest to a family anyways. Especially since he didn't seem to speak to anyone but Nick, either.

"I only had one family come the entire time I lived here," Nick said. He untied his sneakers and started retying them to keep himself properly distracted.

Max looked up at Nick.

Nick glanced at Max. "They were nice," he said.

"Did they want you?" Max asked.

"I didn't want them," Nick answered. "I didn't really give them a chance to want me."

Max thought about this and stared at his toes.

"Sometimes, families don't look like people think they should," Nick said quietly. He was staring out the crack in the box's door flaps, at the house. He smiled, "Sometimes, they look like not having a family at all..." Nick looked at Max and patted his red Converse sneaker. Max pulled his foot away. Nick leaned forward so he could look up into Max's down-turned eyes. "Sometimes families are just friends who care a whole lot about you, Max."

Max's eyes rolled up to look at Nick.

"Everybody's got a family, really," he said quietly, "But sometimes we just look in all the wrong places to find them. You know what I'm saying, Max?"

Max nodded.

"Be who are are and say what you feel
Because those who mind don't matter
And those who matter don't mind."
- Dr. Suess

Chapter 12
Chinese Food on the Living Room Carpet

Raine was sitting on the floor in the living room, her back against the front of the sofa, text books and notebooks strewn across the coffee table, a Chinese take-out box in her hand, chopsticks leveled over it. She looked up as Nick came in the door and kicked off his sneakers and hung up his jacket on the peg. He started to walk past the living room door, to the stairs, presumably to his room, so Raine took a deep breath.

"Yo, Nick," she shouted.

He stopped and backed up, craning his neck around the door frame. His eyes looked red. "Yeah?" he asked.

Raine held up the take-out box. "They sent way too much egg fo yong," she said, "Come save me from the MSG-massacure taking place." She waved an extra pair of chopsticks at him.

"I'm not hungry," Nick answered, shaking his head, "Thanks, though."

"There is always room for Chinese food dude," Raine answered, not taking no for an answer. "It's like the wonder food, the mystical disappearing dinner." She grinned.

Nick hesitated. He really wanted to be alone. It had been a hard day with Max. The couple had returned again to see Sam and Sam had, apparently, been making comments behind closed doors in the bedroom to Max about being wanted. Jake had told Nick as much, Max had been extra quiet, and Nick had felt thick and useless most of the day, struggling with how to make Max feel wanted, when Nick had never felt that way himself.

"C'mon," Raine said. She waved her hand over the open carton. "Smell the deliciousness... Mmm, come have some."

Nick couldn't help but smile at the way she was tempting him. Raine had a colorful way about her that he couldn't quite describe in words, other than to say that she was somehow magical the same way crayons were. In fact, he was pretty certain that if he were to pull her close and smell her that she would have that new crayon smell. He imagined her hair smelling like that moment when you crack open the 64-pack box and breathe deeply.

But Nick was way to shy to ever pull Raine close.

Nick stepped into the living room and Raine let out a squeal of excitement and dug through the bag at her side for the second egg fo yong container and gravy. She used her arm to clear away a portion of her textbooks and dropped the food onto the other side of the table. She'd ordered extra, really, in case he came home. Nick never seemed to eat, he reminded her of those birds at McDonalds that only eat the french fries that little kids spilled on the cement. He never sat down for an actual meal. The closest he came was when he made macaroni and cheese and stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, eating it out of the pan with a wooden spoon.

"Thanks," Nick said, opening the box and taking the extra pair of chopsticks she was shoving at him.

"Oh also, you got a call today from the William's House," Raine told him. "I wrote you a note about an appointment-interview they set up, it's on the whiteboard."

The whiteboard was really purple. It was a dry erase board magnetized to the fridge that Raine and Nick used to write down phone calls and stuff.

"Thanks," Nick answered. "Did you get the rent check? I left it on the whiteboard too."

"Yep, got it and paid it," Raine winked and closed her egg fo yong box, rooting around in the bag for the lo mein. She opened it, then tilted it to Nick, offering him some. He took a scoop with his chop sticks.

Raine and Nick chewed in silence for a couple of long moments. "So how's it going with that little boy?" Raine asked.

Nick stared down into the food container, studying its contents, moving it around with his chopsticks thoughtfully. He gnawed his lower lip. "One of the other kids at the home might have a family," Nick answered, "So Max is kind of upset."

"It's hard, when another person gets what you want so much," Raine said thoughtfully, her voice sad.

Nick looked up, "He's upset because he doesn't want a family."

"Doesn't want a family?" Raine asked with a laugh, "Of course he wants a family. What kid doesn't want a family?"

"I didn't," Nick's words slipped out before he could stop them and he quickly shoved a large pilel of lo mein into his mouth and started chewing frantically.

Raine's eyes were fixed on him. "Why?" she asked.

Nick held up a finger to indicate one moment and started chewing slower, trying to prolong the time. His mind raced, reaching for answers. He stared at Raine and felt a funny burning somewhere in his chest, and looked away. He swallowed and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling.

"Nick?" Raine whispered.

He closed his eyes.

"I was afraid," he answered, "To have a family because I was afraid it would happen again."

"Being left, you mean?" Raine asked tentatively. She reached around the table and laid a hand on Nick's knee.

Nick looked into Raine's eyes.

It had never really occurred to her that Nick had once had a mother and a father. The one time he'd mentioned that he'd been raised in a group home by a woman named Mimi he'd made it sound like he'd been practically born there and had known no other lives before that. But looking into Nick's eyes, it became painfully obvious that this assumption was not true.

"What happened, Nick?" Raine asked quietly.

Putting down the take-out container, Nick stood up and started for the door. "I'm going to go to bed," he said quietly, and disappeared into the hall. Raine listened as his feet thundered up the stairs until the thumps had faded away down the hall to his bedroom on the far side of the upstairs area.

Only then did Raine remember to breathe again.

"You have to do stuff that average people don't understand
because those are the only good things.
- Andy Warhol

Chapter 13
Sam's Family

Mimi's office window overlooked the front yard. She was sitting behind the desk with the paperwork and sitting next to her was the gentleman from the state. Straight across was the woman, Mrs. West, and Mr. West was standing at the window, staring out at the grass illuminated by the sun's light.

The stateworker was reading over the paperwork. Within minutes he would sign it, Mimi would sign it, the Wests would sign it, and then Sam would have a new family.

Mimi always felt nervous and excited at the same time during these days, getting ready to sign paperwork to change her childrens' lives. Sam was excited, he was upstairs, packing his things into a trunk, happy that he was going to go home with the Wests, whose company he'd enjoyed each time they'd come to visit him. Mimi would miss Sam.

Sam had come to the home as a baby, and she'd raised him, and here he was, eight years old, and finally a nice couple wanted him. He would be moving to a suburb, where he would attend a private school and, hopefully, one day go to college.

Mr. West turned to look at Mimi, "That boy's a little old to be here, isn't he?" he asked, gesturing to the front lawn.

Mimi turned and saw Nick laying spread-eagle on the grass, calling Max (it was obvious this was what he was doing, though Mimi could not hear him, judging by the way his head was moving and his mouth was stretched wide in the 'ahh' of Max). She smiled. "Nick doesn't live here anymore," she answered, "Though it will always be his home, should he need it."

"What on earth is he doing?" Mr. West asked.

Nick looked like he was making snow angels on the bare ground.

Mimi shrugged, "Who knows. Nick's always had an active imagination."

"So a grown man comes to your lawn and tumbles about on the grass... and you've no qualms about it?" Mr. West inquired.

The stateworker and Mrs. West looked up.

Mimi laughed, "Do you see that cardboard box?" she asked. Mr. West nodded. "Inside that box is a little boy named Max, who has been through the worst times a child can see." She smiled sadly, "Nick is studying to be a child psychologist. He's nearly done with the first part of his degree."

"I see." Mr. West seemed less put out by Nick's actions, though he continued to watch with raised eyebrows.

The stateworker lowered the paperwork to the desk and pulled out his pen, clicking the top. "Well," he said, "Who is ready to give Sam a home?"

Mr. West quickly turned away from the window and joined his wife at the desk.



"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaax!" Nick wailed. He wobbled his arms and legs about. "Please can we have an adventure today, Max? Please?" The sun was peeking through the clouds, making everything in the yard glow green as light filtered through the leaves of the trees. Nick was determined to make Max leave the box today. "I have the perfect idea for an adventure today, Max," he pleaded.

Max was sitting in the corner of the box, hugging his knees to his chest. Sam had told him all about the Wests and how he would be leaving with the family that night. Sam and Max weren't really friends, but Max didn't want Sam to go away. Sam had been at the home way longer than Max had. Max kind of felt like if Mimi would get rid of Sam, then Mimi would certainly get rid of Max, too.

"I have a present for you and everything, Max," Nick said. "It's going to be a great adventure, if you'll just come out and put on your explorer hat."

Max hugged his knees.

Deciding this tactic of laying and begging and whining wasn't working, Nick rolled on to his stomach and crawled across the lawn to Max's box. He peeked in through the flap. "Max," he whispered. "Can I come in?"

Max shook his head.

"Why not?" Nick asked.

Max didn't respond.

Nick sighed and dropped to his stomach in the grass, his legs spread behind him. He stared at Max's red Converse sneakers. The toe was starting to split away from the sole. He sighed. "I guess I'll have to give your present to some other kid," he said lazily. "Though I really, really, really wanted you to have it."

Max stared at Nick.

"Do you at least want to know what it was?" Nick asked.

Max nodded.

Nick shook his head, "I can't tell you unless you ask what it was."

Max tucked his knees under his chin and picked at the lift on his shoe. He pursed his lips and stared down.

The front door banged open and excited foot fall tread across the grass to the box. Nick rolled over and sat up and found Sam standing beside him at the door to the box. The Wests were standing on the sidewalk, grinning after him, and Mimi looked bleary eyed at the door stoop. The social worker was carrying his briefcase to the sleek Lexus that he'd parked at the end of the driveway.

Sam ducked around Nick and peered into the crack of the box. "Seeya, Max," he said. Sam looked at Nick, but since he didn't really know him, he found he didn't really have anything to say, so he trotted back to the Wests.

Mr. West was eyeing Nick with a hint of disapproval. Nick glanced down and realized his t-shirt had a rather unsightly grass stain on it, as did the toes of his sneakers and the knees of his jeans. He smiled up at the Wests, but Mr. West didn't smile back and Mrs. West was already fussing over Sam, who had collided with her hip upon his return to the walkway.

"Bye-bye Sam," called Mimi, waving. She raised a Kleenex to her face and dabbled her eyes carefully, suckering in a large, shaking breath as Sam waved and followed Mr. and Mrs. West to the car. Jake suddenly came around the door frame, carrying Sam's trunk, and followed them, also, to the car, where he helped Mr. West put the trunk into the back of the truck.

Once the Wests had driven away, Jake and Mimi returned into the house, and left Nick and Max alone on the lawn once more. Nick turned back to the box and peered inside. "They're gone now, Max," he said quietly.

Max looked up from staring at his sneakers, and Nick saw that there were thick, huge tears in Max's eyes. Max sniffled and his face broke into a long, frown as the tears began to fall. Nick pulled open the box flaps and crawled inside. He scooped Max into his lap and held him tight against his chest, tucking Max's head under his chin protectively. Max's tears felt hot against Nick's chest, and Nick ran his hand in smooth, gentle circles across Max's back.

After a long moment, Max croaked, "What was the present?"

Nick smiled.

"To me, photograhpy is an art of observation.
It's abot finding something interesting in an ordinary place...
I've found it has little to do with the things you see
and everything to do with the way you see them."
- Elliott Erwitt

Chapter 14
The House where Nick Lives

Max spread the Polaroid photographs around on the coffee table. Nick knelt on the opposite side. He'd stretched the lamp to it's full cord length from the wall and aimed its light down on the images they'd collected. The pictures depicted random items - things like the pointed tips of leaves, a feather on a rocky dirt path, an earthworm on the driveway.

This had been the surprise - the camera, that is, and the film that Max had used to capture the world as he saw it. Nick had followed him around the yard, then suggested going to his hose to take pictures, and the pair of them had driven the five blocks to the home that Nick shared with Raine. Max had snapped pictures of everything he thought meant something, including the number on the mailbox in front of Nick's house.

Max's box was in the kitchen, but Max hardly seemed to notice he'd crossed the entire house from it. He was enthralled with the photograhps. He clutched Nick's camera to his chest, staring down at them all, then held it up and took a picture of all the pictures, Nick's hand reaching across from the top left of the frame.

Nick laughed as that picture developed.

When the door opened at 7:00 and Raine came in, she was shaking her umbrella to dry it off, she kicked off her Doc Martin shoes and noticed there were two pairs of red Converse by the door. She peeked around the living room door frame and found Nick and Max laughing and wrestling on the couch, completely unaware she'd come in the room, polaroid photographs laying everywhere. One had landed on the floor at her feet and she picked it up and found it to be a close up of the two of their faces, cheeks pressed together, and out of focus. The gap in Nick's teeth was clearly visible in the photo. She looked up at the two boys, then tucked the picture into her bookbag.

Nick sat up suddenly and his eyes met Raine's. "Hey," he said, freezing.

Max's head poked up over the side of the sofa and his eyes got wide. He looked around. Where was his box? He felt a sort of panic take over him and tried to wrestle away from Nick to go find the box, but Nick still had a pretty solid grip on him and he couldn't slip away.

Raine smiled. She crossed the room and held out her hand to the wriggling boy. "You must be Max," she said.

Max stopped struggling at the sound of his name. How did this stranger know who he was? he wondered. He stared up at her smooth, warm face, her wide nose and kind, dark eyes. Max's eyes turned to look at her hand, and he hesitated, then carefully put his own little hand in hers. She wrapped her fingers around his hand and he noticed she had bright blue, sparkling fingernails.

Max liked the color blue. It seemed like it was the opposite of the color yellow.

"I'm Raine," she said to him, still smiling, as she released his hand. He drew his arm back from her and held his in his opposite hand, as though worried his hand had been injured by the shake. "Nick tells me a lot about you," she offered.

Max looked at Nick. Nick talked to people about him? Something inside Max felt a little ticklish and warm. He liked that Nick talked about him, though he wasn't quite sure what about it made him feel so strange inside.

Raine looked at Nick, "So how come you brought him here?" she asked. She discarded her bookbag onto the floor and stepped around the sofa, leaning over the coffee table and looking at the Polaroids.

"Just thought it'd be a nice treat," Nick answered, sitting up the rest of the way, shifting Max to the cushion beside him. "Plus we wanted to look at our pictures..." he waved a hand at all the photos strewn about everywhere. Raine smiled. "We took these all today. Well, Max did. I just watched."

Raine looked up, two photographs held in her fingertips that she'd been studying more closely. "Wow," she said to Max, "I'm impressed. These are all really pretty." She waved one, a close up of the center of a flower bearing a star shape in various shades of pink inside of it, and began shuffling through them. "You're a very good photographer, Max."

Max crawled off the sofa, now that Nick had released him, and sat on the carpet, hugging his knees to his chest. He picked up the camera from the table and aimed it at Raine, snapping a photo of her looking at the pictures. Raine smiled as it developed and Max tossed it onto the pile with the rest.

"Thank you," she said, picking it up.

Max put the camera back down and crawled out of the room, headed for the kitchen to retrieve his box. The moment he'd passed out of ear shot of a whisper, Raine looked at Nick. "What's going on?" she asked.

"One of the other boys was adopted today," Nick answered, scarcely above a breath, "And Max was really upset... Dinner table talk after someone gets a family at Mimi's is... well, they all want families, so they tend to talk about families and things like that. It can be really hard and confusing," he explained, "And I figured Max might rather not have it any harder than he needs to."

Raine nodded. "That was really thoughtful of you," she said quietly.

"You don't mind, right?" Nick asked, suddenly realizing he hadn't even asked her if it was okay if Max spend the night at their house.

Raine laughed, "Not at all."

A shuffling noise made them both look up. Max had re-entered the room, his box pulled over his head. He rolled the box onto its side and peeked through the flaps at them. Nick smiled. He picked up the camera and took a shot of the box, with Max's tiny fingers holding it closed.

"Each friend represents a world in us,
a world not born until they arrive,
and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."
- Anais Nin

Chapter 15
Go Fish

"Do you have any... Queens?" Nick's voice came out slowly as he surveyed his hand. Raine was sitting on the carpet across the coffee table from him. He'd gathered the photos and put them into a shoe box and slid them into the cardboard box with Max, who had yet to come out, but was peeking through the flaps at their game.

"Go fish," Raine announced, dragging out the ish.

"Man..." Nick reached for the deck. "I already got a whole ocean, you're kidding me." He pulled a card from the deck. "C'moooooon queenie!" Nick called, flipping his card to look at it. He frowned. Raine smirked as a tiny giggle escaped from inside the cardboard box as Nick flung himself backwards onto the couch cushions with a cry.

Max was enjoying watching. He crossed his legs the way Raine was and held out his hands as though fanning the cards out the way Nick was doing. He rolled backwards into the box as Nick had done on the couch, his legs flying up in front of him. He giggled and stared at his stocking feet in the air, wiggling his toes.

"Do you have an Ace?" Raine asked.

"Yeaaaaah," Nick took a card and frisbeed it across the table. He frowned down at his hand. "Too bad Max isn't playing," he said in a sad voice. He looked at Raine, who was folding a set of cards onto the table. "I bet Max would be real good at Go Fish."

"I'm sure," Raine answered, "Better than you..." she smirked deviously, "Which isn't hard actually."

Nick squinted his eyes. "You're not very nice."

Raine laughed, "But you love me just the same, don't you?"

Nick's stomach gave a little jolt at the L word and he laughed and looked down at his cards without answering. After a small pause had passed, he said, "Got any fours?"

Raine apprehensively pulled a four and tossed it onto the table for Nick. He folded two cards onto the table as well. She swallowed. "Twos..."

Nick brought the card to the table and she reached for it before he'd drawn his hand away, their finger tips touching. Raine looked up at Nick's face and Nick turned away, biting his lower lip and turning to look at the box. Max peered out from inside and Nick could just see his eye, lined up with the crack between the flaps of the box.

They kept playing, quiet now that the awkward moment had passed, and when Raine had won - because that was inevitable, the way Nick kept picking up cards and building his deck larger and larger, Nick yawned. "Well," he said, sliding the cards off the table and into one solid block to return to the package, "I guess it's time for bed."

Raine glanced at the clock, and realized for the first time that it was well after ten.

"Wow, yeah," she agreed. She glanced at the box. "Where is..."

"My bed..." Nick waved to the sofa, "I'm gonna sleep down here tonight."

Raine stood up and grabbed some cups they'd used from the table. She knocked on the box door. "Knock, knock," she called, "Can I have the cereal bowl back?"

Nick had remembered to get Cinnamon Toast Crunch from Mimi.

Max pushed the bowl out of the box and Raine collected it. "I'll put this stuff in the dish washer, if you wanna just head up," she offered.

"Sure," Nick answered. He scooped up his camera from the floor beside the coffee table. "Hey Max," he said, "Wanna come out so we can go upstairs? I'll carry your box for you." Max waited until Raine had carried the dishes out of the room before poking out the door. He crawled across the carpet and stood up, staring up at Nick, holding the shoebox of photographs. Nick smiled, "C'mon, Max."

Nick grabbed hold of the cardboard box and carried it into the entry way, onto the first couple steps. He paused when he didn't hear Max behind him on the steps and looked over his shoulder. Max was sitting by the door, putting on his sneakers. "What'cha doin' Max?" Nick asked.

Max tied up his laces while Nick waited, then plodded across the entry way and joined Nick on the stairs. Nick shrugged and continued up, carrying the box in front of him. When he reached the top, he led the way down the hall to his room, where he kicked open the door and put the box on the bed, like Mimi had warned him would be mandatory.

Max looked around the room from the doorway. He inched his way in as Nick slid pillows and the blankets into the box's depths. Max put the box of photographs on the floor by Nick's desk and looked across its surface at the papers and pens and a can of roasted sunflower seeds. He reached up and touched the bobbly head of an owl figurine on the edge of Nick's desk, then walked around the chair and stared at the shelves of books he had lining the wall in an L shape under the window.

Nick had lots of books. Mostly big, thick books with lots of pages and titles that Max had never heard of. But Nick also had a wide variety of children's books with titles that Max had heard of. And it was somewhere along the shelf that he found it and his heart skipped a beat. He pulled it off the shelf and turned to Nick, holding it up.

"The Very Hungry Catepillar," Nick said, smiling at the book. He reached for it. "This was my favorite when I was your age."

Max's eyes widened. Mimi was right. Max and Nick had a lot in common, he realized.

Nick pet the bed next to him, "C'mon, I'll read this to you, if you like."

Max nodded and scrambled over, trying to climb onto Nick's bed, which was way higher than the bottom bunk at home. Nick hoisted Max up and Max crawled into the box and leaned back on to the pillows, pulling the blanket up to his chin as Nick cleared his throat, and began to read.

"In the light of the moon a little egg lay on a leaf," Nick read, "One Sunday morning the warm sun came up and -pop!- out of the egg came a tiny and very hungry catepillar..."

Max listened to the story as though he'd never heard it before. Nick dramatized it and made exciting facial expressions and the tone of his voice rose and fell with the words. It was nothing like when Mimi read it, which was nice but just not like this. Max felt like he could hear a billion stories if only Nick would read them. He dreaded the moment when they reached the very last page... but like all stories, it had to end, and far too soon Nick was reading the words Max knew so well...

"He built a small house, called a cocoon, around himself. He stayed inside for more than two weeks. Then he nibbled a hole in the cocoon, pushed his way out and..." Nick turned the page slowly, smiling at Max, "He was a beautiful butterfly." Nick held up the last picture for Max to see, and when Max had seen it, he turned it back to himself and stared down at the page for a long moment before closing the book.

Max's eyes were droopy. Nick smiled and stood up and moved to the lamp on the desk. "I'm gonna leave the door open a little bit, okay?" he said, "I don't have a night light so I'll leave the hall light on." He turned the lamp off and it got dark, but not too dark in the room. Max heard the door open. "Good night, Max," Nick said.

Max listened as the door closed, but not all the way. He heard Nick's steps go down the hall, heard him thump down the stairs.

"Good night, Nick," he whispered.

"There is nothing in a caterpillar
that tells you it's going to be a butterfly."
- Richard Buckminster Fuller

Chapter 16
The Very Hungry Caterpillar

"I have a ridiculous idea," Nick announced, swinging into the kitchen, where Raine was still loading the dish washer. He grabbed a plate from her hand and put it on the table.

Raine picked it back up and turned to the dish washer with it. "What's that?" she asked.

Nick stepped between her and the kitchen sink. "Max," he said, "Is a caterpillar."

Raine blinked at Nick in confusion.

"All abused kids are caterpillars. They cocoon themselves up - in Max's case, literally, inside a box - but soon enough the time's gonna come and -pop!-" Nick waved his hands, "-he will be a butterfly."

Raine smiled. "You're confident."

"Max is an awesome kid," Nick answered, "When he comes out of that shell." He laughed, "I dunno why I didn't think of this before. It's so obvious. The box is like a growing device, it's an outward appearance of his internalized emotions, you know?" he shook his head, "It's Max processing the stuff he's feeling that he can't put labels on. When he's nervous, he goes in the box. It's so simple."

Raine laughed, "Simple? Nick, what if he never stops?"

"Eventually either the box is gonna fall apart or he's gonna grow too big to fit in it."

"You fit in it," Raine pointed out.

"Well it has to fall apart someday, it's biodegradable," Nick joked.

Raine rolled her eyes. "What if he just gets a bigger box?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you think Max is showing signs of Autism?" she asked.

Nick hesitated, "Well maybe a little from the outside, but I'm serious Raine, once you get inside this kid's head, he's smart and he's funny and he's --"

Raine had raised her eyebrow, "Nick, what if you're like the autistic kid whisperer? What if he's only opening up to you?"

"He's opened to other people," Nick answered, thinking of the day with the pirate ships in the boys bedroom at Mimi's. Max had talked a couple times to Jake that day.

"He didn't say a single word to me all night," Raine pointed out.

"He just met you," Nick argued. "You have to get to know Max."

Raine sighed, "Nick, what if that's not all it is?" she asked, "What if Max needs treatment? I mean I know you're trying here and you're really good at what you're doing, but what if Max needs more? You know?" she frowned.

Nick shook his head, "Max is fine, Ray." He pulled out a chair at one of the tables, "Max can grow up to be just fine if people will just give him the chance to process and to come out of this, you know?"

"But how do you know?" Raine demanded, "How do you know Max is gonna just snap out of this one day?"

"Because I did," Nick answered sharply, "When I was little and I was closing myself into the back of cupboards and closets and sleeping under the bed, I was scared and I was alone and I didn't trust anybody except Mimi. Mimi didn't judge me, she didn't make me talk, she just let me be quiet if I wanted to be quiet, she listened to my silence." Nick stood up again and paced the length of the kitchen, "Max needs that, and I'm being that for him. And just like me, just like I did, he can snap out of this. He can realize that it's over and nobody's going to hurt him anymore and he doesn't have to be perfect because when he messes up nobody's gonna strike him down for it." Nick spun on his heels, "He can realize he's normal, that he's a good kid and he can make it, that he is worth something."

Raine stared at Nick as the words poured out of him, feeling a bit shellshocked.

Nick turned and looked her square in the face. "He can learn that he is a butterfly, once he's gotten out of that cocoon."

Raine gnawed the inside of her cheek, and silence hung between them for a long moment. She stepped up to him where he'd stopped pacing, leaning against the counter opposite her, his hands on the counter's edge. Raine looked up into his face, at his brown hair and deep eyes as he stared down at her. She raised her hand and gently rested it on his cheek, dragging it across his skin softly until she was cupping his chin.

"Nick, you believe in the impossible," she whispered, "And that is what makes you amazing."

He felt his breath coming thicker and harder, and he raised his hand, resting it softly on her back. "You're a great friend," he said quietly.

Raine shook her head, "Shut up, Nick. I don't want to be your friend." The hand on his chin slipped backwards, behind his neck, to his hairline and she pulled him forward into a kiss.

"How blessed are some people,
whose lives have no fears, no dreads.
To whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly,
and brings nothing but sweet dreams."
- Bram Stoker

Chapter 17
The Accident

"Mummy!"

Max awoke with a start and clutched the blankets closer to his chest, his eyes searching the room. The crack of light from the door stretched across Nick's belongings. The room - indeed even the blanket - smelled like Nick. Max closed his eyes tight as shadows snuck around him and breathed in the smell of his friend. His best friend.

Suddenly, Max realized what had happened. He screwed his eyes even tighter shut and shook his head. "No, no, no, no," he whispered, shaking. He pushed the blanket away from himself and looked down at his pants.

Crawling out of bed, he looked at the mess and pushed his box away from it so it wouldn't get ruined. He began pacing across the room, wringing his hands. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't change, he didn't have any other clothes. He paced even harder, walking the line of the light that poured in through the crack in the door.

Suddenly the door creaked open and Raine popped her head into the room. "Max?" she asked, reaching for the switch to Nick's lamp. She turned it on and squinted against the sudden illumination. Her eyes were bleary and her hair was kind of sticking up funny.

Mortified, Max covered himself and crouched on the floor, his hands cupped over his lap so she couldn't see. He shook his head, trembling as he ducked behind the bed, peeking over the mattress at her.

"Max are you okay?" Raine asked. She took a couple more steps into the room, and the smell hit her and she looked down at the bed. The dark spot was pooling out quickly, spreading across the sheets. Raine pulled the box off the bed and put it in the corner by Nick's closet and started pulling blankets off quickly, hoping she'd come before it had a chance to seep into Nick's mattress.

Max started to cry.

"Oh Max," she said, "It's okay. Really. I just gotta change this and you'll be good as new."

Max's eyes continued to overflow with tears as Raine balled up the bed linens and tossed them to the door. The mattress was fine, she'd caught it before it'd gone all the way through. She rounded the bed and pulled open the bottom drawer of Nick's dresser, where she knew he kept all his sheets - she'd put them away for him every odd Thursday for the past four years, while he'd done the same for her on evens. "See?" she unfolded a blue striped sheet set and carried it to the bed. "Look at this."

But Max was still crying, even after she'd tucked the sheets in and replaced his box onto the bed and put the dry blanket back on.

Raine knelt down next to Max on the floor and studied his red, blotchy face for a long moment before it dawned on her. His pants had to be soaked, too. She stood up and went back to Nick's dresser and pulled out a soft, kooshy, bright red sweatshirt that would hang miles too long on Max's little frame. "I don't know where Nick put your bag, but this should do the trick for tonight at least, right?" she asked, holding up the sweatshirt.

Max nodded.

Raine handed it to Max and turned away while he changed. When she turned around again, the sleeves on the sweatshirt were hanging twice as long as his little arms and the waist band was touching his knees. With his red converse sneakers on, he looked a bit like a McDonald's Fry Guy. She knelt down and reached for the wrists of the sweatshirt arms and started to roll the cuffs back so Max's little hands would show.

She looked into his sopping wet eyes as big giant tears rolled down his cheeks and her heart had a flibbety-flop kind of snapping feeling in response. She reached up with her palms and pressed them to Max's cheeks and gently wiped his tears away with her thumbs. "Shhh," she whispered, "It's okay. It's all better now. I'll wash these and it'll be our secret, okay?" she asked.

Max looked at Raine's wide eyes and wondered if he could trust her. Nick seemed to, he reasoned, and he trusted Nick okay. He nodded his head, hoping that Nick was right to trust her, that she wasn't really a monster with a pretty disguise.

Raine smiled and smoothed his hair and kissed his forehead - something Max wasn't sure if he liked or not - and she stood up and tossed his wet pants into the pile by the door. "Ready to go back to sleep?" she asked.

Max nodded.

Raine helped him back up into the bed and Max curled up, once again, in the box, the blanket to his chin. She smiled and turned to pick up the laundry, when she thought of something and turned back. She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked in at Max. "Nick thinks you're the butterfly," she whispered to him.

Max looked at her.

"He thinks one day you're going to break out of this cocoon," she said, running her hand along the inside edge of the box, "And that when you do, you'll be a beautiful butterfly."

Max felt his throat get hot and tickly and he pressed his nose into the blanket, taking in Nick's scent again.

Raine smiled, then stood up, "Goodnight," she said quietly.

She bent to collect the laundry and rolled it up before tucking it under her arm to bring to the basement to wash. She was just about to leave the room when she heard him say, barely above a whisper, "Butterflies don't wet the bed."

Raine turned back and repositioned herself on the edge of the bed again. She reached out and took Max's hand and stroked it gently with her thumb. "But little boys who are scared do," she said.

Max's eyes met Raine's. "Even Nick?" he asked.

"Yes, Max, even Nick," Raine answered, nodding. "In fact, I bet if you ask Nick in the morning he'll tell you he did it, too."

Max stared at Raine for a long moment, then he asked, "Do you think Nick loves me?"

Raine nodded. "I know Nick loves you."

Max swept a fist over his little eyes, pushing tears away. His tiny little nose flared. "Okay, good," he said, content with that answer.

Raine smiled, "Okay," she agreed, "Good."

"If you do a good job for others,
you heal yourself at the same time
because a dose of joy is a spiritual cure."
- Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Chapter 18
The Williams' House

Nick sat in his car the next afternoon, after having dropped Max off at Mimi's, and stared out his car windshield at the grey-blue Williams' House Group Home for Children. He clutched the steering wheel and gnawed his lower lip. Mimi had given hi excellent reference - a reference which would hold quite a lot of clout in this particular situation, given that Mimi herself had once worked for the head of the Williams' house, Barry Williams.

He could feel his heart beating in his chest against his ribs and his pulse escalating. This was the key to everything he wanted to learn. A good internship the summer after completing his bachelor's degree could lead to recommendations for grad school. A recommendation from Barry Williams, in the local child psychology scene anyways, was like having pure gold on your record.

"You can do this," Nick coached himself, "You've worked like a dog for this." He reached across the seat for his portfolio, which included a creatively designed resume that Raine had helped him put together when he got the call for the interview. He took a deep breath and reached for the handle of the door adn climbed out.

The parking lot seemed longer than a football field, though it only housed a capacity of maybe twelve vehicles at a time, and his feet felt like lead. Nick climbed the three steps to the entrance, which was decorated with painted children's hands, and let himself in. The blast of air conditioning tickled his nose, and he knocked on the office door. Upstairs and down the hall he could hear shrieks and giggles and other childish play sounds.

"Come in," came a woman's voice from the otherside of the partially closed door.

Nick pushed the door opened and stepped inside gingerly. A woman with frizzy red hair looked up from the keyboard she was typing furiously on and stared at Nick for a prolonged moment. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I have an appointment with Dr. Williams," Nick replied, "About an internship," he added.

The woman's face lit up in recognition. "Oh you're that kid." She smiled, "Have a seat," she added, gesturing to a row of plastic chairs against the far wall, "I'll let Mr. Williams know you're here." She got up and waddled out of the room.

Nick looked around the office, which was relatively messy. A dead geranium sat in the window behind the secretary's desk, and a box full of toys that looked like they'd probably been confiscated were tucked into the corner. Nick smiled at the pokey-pointy-small-parts-abounding toys that were peeking out from inside the box.

The door opened and the secretary re-entered and hovered to her desk. She was followed at once by a shortish man with salt-and-pepper beard and hair (though it was more salt than pepper). He extended a hand to Nick, whose hand he squeezed firmly. "It's nice to finally meet you Nick," he said.

Nick smiled, "And you, Mr. Williams," he said politely.

"Please, call me Barry," he insisted, turning, "Come, let's have a talk in my office shall we?" Barry motioned for Nick to step into the hall, then glanced at the secretary. "Anne, let me know if you need anything, I'll be in my office with Nick here."

"Yes sir," Anne sang out.

Barry smiled, "Come along, then," he said, leading the way down the hallway, into the depths of the Williams' House. Nick looked around as they walked, noticing that the walls were decorated primarily with framed finger paintings and crayon works, which were labeled with names, ages and dates. The walls were painted cheerfully and though the carpet was worn from use, its nap was not as severe as most public buildings would be - allowing for falls to occur without excessive rug burn.

"What makes you keen on working here?" Barry asked over his shoulder as they moved through a living area, where an assortment of children were lounging about with books and toys of various sorts.

"Well, I grew up at Mimi's home," Nick answered, "And I'm aware what a difference a group home can make in a child's life and - well, sir, more than anything, I just want to make a difference in lives of kids who have been through things like I have."

Barry glanced back at Nick, a smile in his eyes, "I see," he said. He pushed open a red-painted door and motioned for Nick to step inside just as a little girl raced across the room and attached herself to Barry's leg. He looked down and rested a hand on the back of her head, "Ah Megan," he said, smiling, "What's the matter?"

"Jeffrey took The Order of the Phoenix out of the library, even though he's already finished it and I've just finished Goblet of Fire and I - I need to find out what happens to Harry Potter!" Megan wailed.

Barry sighed, "Oh dear," he said heavily, "That is a problem." He looked at Nick. "If you don't mind waiting here just a moment, I have an issue to resolve, as you hear." He winked and allowed Megan to lead him away from Nick.

Nick hugged his portfolio and looked around some more from where he stood.

Fifteen minutes later, Barry Williams returned. "Okay, quickly before we end up accosted by one who needs the next Chronicles of Narnia book," he joked, waving Nick into the office.

Nick took a seat in a chair facing the large desk, which Barry sat behind. The desk was covered with stacks and stacks of paperwork, a slinky and a rubrix cube lay to one side. Nick handed Barry his portfolio and Barry opened it up, and started looking through the stacks of papers and references. He stopped at Mimi's and studied it.

"So Mimi says here you're working with a little boy at her home," Barry said, lowering his glasses, "Max, is it?"

"Yeah, Max," Nick nodded.

"And how's that going?"

"It's going okay," Nick said, "He's been through a lot, and to cope he hides in a cardboard box and resists talking whenever possible..." Nick smiled, "But since I've been visiting him, he talks a lot more frequently to me, and I've gotten him to forget about the box several times."

"Interesting," Barry mused. He continued flipping through the pages of Nick's portfolio. Finally he looked up. "So you were raised in Mimi's home," Barry said, laying the pages on his desk top. He studied Nick for a long moment, "What was your situation?"

By situation, Nick knew that Barry was asking about how he'd ended up at Mimi's house in the first place.

Nick took a deep breath.

"I was six," he said slowly, "When my father killed my mother."

Barry's eyebrows went up, but he didn't interrupt.

Nick looked at his hands, "Best thing for both of us, really, she was only staying with him because she was afraid to leave. She knew he'd go after her, see. And me... well, I was only six, wasn't I? But I was stupid, you know, I tried to stop him when he got going on her and I ended up in the hospital, too." Nick gnawed his lip a moment, then added, "That's where Mim got me from," he added, "Christmas Eve the year I turned six." He nodded. "And my life changed completely because of her. I wouldn't be here today without Mim."

"Is there a reason she never placed you with a family?" Barry asked carefully.

"I didn't want a family," Nick answered. He shrugged, "Mimi was my family. The other kids at the home were my family. The home was my home, the first and only place that I'd ever felt safe."

Barry nodded. "What do you plan to do when you graduate the higher programs?"

Nick smiled, "This," he answered, waving his arms out, "What I'm doing now. I want to help kids like me whose parents don't know enough to love them." He looked around. "This place is brilliant, Mr. Williams, and I'd like to bring my vision to it, help it to grow. Or else to start my own place one day. My fr--" Here, Nick paused for but a second, but in his head a million things rushed by. He hadn't defined, truly, his relationship with Raine, but somehow, saying friend after the kiss they'd shared felt untrue, so he repaired the word, "My girlfriend is studying to become a child psychologist as well," he said, "I'm hoping that we might work together in the future." Even as he said the words, he knew it would happen.

A feeling of settlement came over him.

Barry smiled. "That's noble indeed," he commended. He lifted the sheaf of papers once more and studied them. "Nick," he said after a long moment, lowering them once more, "It says here that you are unsure what became of your father?"

Nick nodded.

"He wasn't imprisoned?"

"There wasn't enough evidence to convict him, really, the way it all happened... it was the word of a six year old boy against a thirty-one year old man's." Nick smiled sadly, "Surely you know how the justice system works, sir."

Barry nodded, "All too well."

After a long and winding conversation, Barry finally stood up and extended his hand to Nick. "It was very nice to meet you, I say once again," Barry said, "And I'll give you a call this week to let you know about the position, okay?"

Nick nodded. "Sir," he said, shaking Barry's hand, "I just want you to know that --" he paused, making sure the words would come out correctly, "You won't find another candidate for this internship who wants it more than I do."

Barry smiled, "I can see the passion in your eyes for the job, Nick, and hear it in your voice. There is no need to tell me such things." He winked. "Now off you go, and I'll be in touch this week."

"Thank you sir."

Nick let himself out of the office and back down the hall, past Anne, who smiled and waved with the tips of her fingers as he passed, and returned to his car, his palms sweating. He climbed in and rested his head against the steering wheel, lips moving in a silent prayer to God to please let him get the internship.

"The weak can never forgive.
Forgiveness is an attribute of the strong."
- Ghandi

Chapter 19
He Wishes to Apologize

When Barry Williams appeared at Mimi's door, she thought for sure it would be in reference to Nick's interview the day before. She ushered him into the house and led him up to her office after he'd politely declined lemonade and coffee both, and they settled themselves into chairs around her desk.

"I heard Nick's interview went well," Mimi said cheerfully, "For the internship?"

Barry nodded, "Yes, Nick's a good kid and he's certainly one of the ones I'm considering for the job." He smiled, "But you are sworn to secrecy, of course, you didn't hear that from me."

Mimi, grinning, nodded and sealed her lips. She leaned forward, "Did you have questions about his past or --"

"Actually, believe it or not, I am here on a completely unrelated subject," he said, then with a pause he said, "Actually, not a completely unrelated subject, but pretty far removed. I saw in Nick's papers that you have a little boy named Max living with you, who you aquired just three months ago, is that correct?"

Mimi blinked. "Yes," she answered, "Well, nearly four now, but yes. Max lives here. He's the one Nick has been working with."

"I'm aware," Barry answered, nodding. He took a deep breath. "As you know, Mimi, I'm on the department board at social services and a lot of things filter over my desk."

Mimi nodded. She wasn't sure why but a feeling of tension and suspense was crawling through her body, setting off each nerve like a shot gun firing behind race horses at the Kentucky Derby. She slid forward in her seat, her body tight with tension.

"A request arrived on my desk yesterday," Barry Williams continued, "Just after Nick had left, actually, from a hospital not far from here, where a man was brought in with severe liver damage from years of drinking..." he paused. "The man claims he has a son, named Max, who was taken from him three months ago, and --" Mr. Williams took a deep breath, "-- he wishes to apologize to his son... before he dies."

Mimi's hand traveled slowly to her mouth and she stared at Barry in concern.

"He says he has made too many mistakes in the past," Barry continued slowly, "But that this one, with this son, he can make ammends for."

Mimi let out a strangled gasp, "But- but Max is - he's so -" she stared down at her desk, then looked up, stronger for the pause, and said, "Max is very delicate. He only speaks to Nick as it is, and Nick's put a lot of effort into prying Max opened and I don't know that seeing his father would - would help that."

Barry nodded, "Even so, I do believe that the option should be left up to Max himself."

Mimi's eyes cinched in concern. "You can't be serious, Barry," she commanded, "Max is only six years old. How can he be expected to reach such a decision on his own?" She clucked her tongue at him in disapproval.

Barry took a deep breath, "It is of course a very overwhelming thing to ask of him," he sighed, "But I worry that if you don't at least offer him the opportunity, he may grow to resent that it was taken away from him later in his life."

Mimi knew this was true. Turning to look out the window, she stared at Max's box on the lawn, turned to face the street where Nick usually parked his car, waiting for his visitor. She pictured the little boy who was curled inside, who'd been so badly battered when she picked him up at the hospital the thoughts burned her throat with emotion. She pictured him, the fear he'd have inside, unwilling to talk it out, and the confusion he'd feel, seeing his father again, no matter the circumstances.

At that moment, Josh's silver car pulled to a stop behind Barry Williams' and the flaps to the box opened. Max climbed out of the box and rushed to the curb, his arms outstretched. Mimi had never seen Max fly across the lawn so fast. He leaped up into Nick as Nick came around the car and knelt by the curb, laughing and smiling at Max's enthusiasm.

Nick had truly become Max's family.

Mimi looked at Barry. "It's going to be up to Nick," she said, "To tell him or not, and to actually do the telling."

Barry looked surprised, but he followed her previous gaze out the window to see Nick pulling the explorer hats out of the backseat of his car and fixing one on Max's head, pulling the drawstring to the little boy's chin. Nick looked up into the window, saw Mimi peering out, and waved. He pointed at Max, then pointed down the street and Mimi gave him the thumbs up.

Mimi looked at Barry. "Max wouldn't even come out of the box," she said, "I used to have to force him to come out long enough to take a bath. With Nick, he comes out and he takes baths and he goes exploring and he plays pirates and makes messes and fingerpaints and takes photographs and plays. He plays like a normal kid." Mimi smiled, "Barry, Nick has worked a miracle in a little less than a month working with Max, just by being there for him and taking it all one step at a time." She nodded, "Yes, it should be Nick who decides, who tells Max."

Barry nodded, "Very well." He took a deep breath, "In that case, I will speak to Nick about it myself." He stood up and held out a hand to Mimi. She stood, too, and shook it, smiling.

As Barry was exiting the room, Mimi said, "You won't find anyone who wants the internship more than Nick."

Barry turned and smiled at Mimi, "So I hear," he said with a chuckle, "So I hear."

"Too many people grow up. That's the real
trouble with the world, too many people grow up.
They forget. They don't remember what it's like
to be 12 years old. They patronize, they treat children
as inferiors. Well, I won't do that."
- Walt Disney

Chapter 20
Max's Choice

"He what?" Nick's eyes were luminous with anger, "You've got to be kidding me. How can you even begin to think this is a good idea for Max?" he demanded. He was standing, delirious, out of his mind. He started pacing. Pacing was what Nick did when he didn't know what to do with himself. He gripped the back of the chair he'd been sitting in and looked at Barry Williams again, "Max is six," he said, "Max has barely had time to escape, barely had time to process what's happened to him, to realize he's not to blame..." he shook his head. He paced again. He could feel Barry's eyes on him. He looked up again, "I've had seventeen years to get over what I went through," he said, "and I still would rather die than look my father in the face again."

Barry leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands clasped in a prayer-like position. He took a deep breath and motioned for Nick to sit down again. Hesitantly, he did. It was Barry's turn to stand. He moved to the cupboard and opened it, pulling out a book, which he opened, and removed a fragment of paper from. He turned back to Nick and the desk, and returned to his seat. He stared down at the paper for a long moment, thinking, before he looked back up at Nick.

"Do you know, Nick," Barry said, "My biggest regret?"

Nick shook his head.

Barry shook the paper in his hand at Nick, "Not answering this simple, poorly spelled little letter," he answered. He unfolded it. "My father left my mother," he said slowly, "Because when he returned from war his mind was restless and he couldn't be the man he'd been before he left. I was only a toddler when he left, and I did not remember him growing up. I only knew I missed a father because the other kids had a father." He smiled sadly. "And when I was sixteen, in high school, I received a very curious letter from a man who claimed that I belonged to him." Barry put the letter on the desk. "He asked for forgiveness and for the chance to at least be correspondants. He asked what I was doing with my life, if I was a good kid, how my mother was." Barry sighed. "I didn't answer the letter. I almost tore it up." He showed a rip that sliced angrily across the page and had been taped back together.

"By the time I'd grown out of my pigheaded youth," Barry continued, "He'd passed away."

Nick stared at the paper for a long moment, processing the words Barry had spoken. Then he looked up at the man himself and asked, "But it's different, isn't it? He left because he knew he wasn't going to be able to treat you as you should've been, didn't he?" Nick shook his head, "I can't help but think that mine and Max's fathers would've been doing us a favor by leaving as well, instead of hanging around being drunk all the time."

Barry nodded, considered Nick's words, then said quietly, "Perhaps they left in the only way that they knew how."

Nick raised his eyebrow.

"Come Nick," Barry said, "You've nearly acheived a bachelor's in psychology, have you not? Do you truly not know that alcoholism is a coward's disease?"

Nick turned his face away from Barry, staring at the back of the red office door.

"It should really be Max's choice," Barry said, "Don't you agree, Nick?"



Nick was cross-legged in the cardboard box, sitting across from Max. It was raining outside and the box had been carried upstairs to the boys' room. The box was on the bottom bunk, and the flaps were open only enough to allow light to come in. Max was staring at their red Converse sneakers again. He picked at the ripping toe of his shoe and let his chin rest on his knee cap.

Nick watched Max, a strong feeling of comradarie filling him. He felt as though he and Max had been through a war together. He wasn't certain he dared to open the old wounds, therefore, and he studied Max instead of speaking the words he'd come to say.

"No imagining today?" Max asked, looking up.

Nick shook his head, "Not yet anyway," he added hastily. He took a deep breath, "Max, I need to talk to you about something really important, okay?" he asked. Nick paused. "It's really important that you think this stuff all the way through, really good, okay?"

Max's eyes connected with Nick's.

"Max, your father is in a hospital not very far from here," Nick spoke slowly, watching Max's eyes carefully, "And he would like to see you."

Max continued to stare directly into Nick's eyes, not wavering a moment.

"He - he says he wants to apologize to you," Nick added quietly.

Now Max looked away, his eyes diverting back to the sneakers where Nick's and his toes met in the middle of the box. He puckered his lips out, thinking, picking at his shoe. After a long moment, he looked back up at Nick. "I don't wanna live with my dad again," he whispered.

Nick shook his head, "You don't have to."

"Even if he says sorry?"

"Even if he says sorry," Nick reassured Max.

Max repeated the thinking process once more, then said, "Does he have to say sorry?"

Nick thought about what Max was asking. "He wants to," he said, "If that's what you mean?"

"Nobody's making him?"

Nick shook his head, "Nobody's making him."

Max returned to staring at the sneakers.

Nick put his hand on Max's red Converse, diverting his gaze back to Nick's eyes. Nick leaned close to emphasize his point, "You don't have to go see him, Max," Nick said quietly, "Nobody's gonna make you go. This is completely your choice to go or not." He took a deep breath, "But it's a choice that you can't take back because there won't be another chance to see him again -" Nick paused, "Ever."

Max nodded.

"So you can take a day or two to decide, there's no rushing," Nick said quickly, sitting up straight again. He pulled his hand away from Max's sneaker.

Max shook his head, "No. He can say he's sorry," he said.

Nick looked at Max. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Max said. "I'm sure."

"Coincidence is God's way of staying anonymous."
- Albert Einstein

Chapter 21
The Coincidence

Nick and Max sat in the car, looking across the parking lot at the looming hospital beyond. Nick's stomach was in more turmoil than Max's was. "You're sure you want to do this?" Nick asked for what seemed like the hundreth time since they'd left Mimi's house an hour before.

Max nodded.

Nick climbed out of the car and Max took the bag with Nick's camera in it. He'd asked to be allowed to bring it along incase he wanted to take a picture. Nick had been okay with that. Max took Nick's hand and Nick squeezed tight as they moved across the parking lot, both of their red Converse smacking the pavement with gently clop clop sounds.

When they went through the front doors, Max felt dizzy from the hospital smell inside. Nick guided him along through a brightly lit foyer to a desk, where a secretary sat, and Max looked around while Nick explained who they were and gave the secretary the note from Mr. Williams with the information about Max's father on it. Max saw a big tank of fish with bright fins. One of them was yellow. Max clung tighter to Nick's hand.

They climbed a huge flight of stairs that led to the second floor and took an elevator up. It felt like they were going up forever, Max thought, watching the numbers tick and count to 11. At number 11, they climbed off and walked down a hall to another desk where another secretary told them what room they were looking for, and Max followed Nick down a long corridor painted pink and beige and came to a stop by a half-closed door with a small plastic sign that said 'Room 2831' next to it.

Nick crouched down. He ran his hand over Max's hair, smoothing it down as best he could, and looked at Max's face. He smiled. "Max," he said, "You're a great kid, you know that?"

Max did not answer. He was feeling very quiet today, even with Nick, and he didn't know what to say to answer anyway.

Nick's eyes were gentle. "You're very brave," he said, "For doing this."

Max shook his head, and glanced at the 2831 sign. "I'm scared," he croaked quietly.

"It's okay, Max," Nick said softly, "It's not brave if you aren't scared, right?" He straightened Max's shirt. "We can still leave if you don't want to go in there," he added.

Max's little chest heaved with a great breathy sigh. "No," he said, "Everyone should be allowed to say they're sorry if they want," he explained.

Nick smiled and stood up.

"Okay, then," Nick said, taking Max's hand again. They turned to the door, standing side-by-side, and Nick knocked strongly on the hard oak door, which creaked a little further open. Inside, the foot of a bed was just visible.

"Come in," called a feeble man's voice.

Nick looked down at Max, and Max nodded, and the two of them stepped into the room together, and came around the corner so that the man laying in the hospital bed came into view. "Max..." the man whispered. Then his eyes met Nick's.

Nick dropped Max's hand.

The world had seemed to seize in that instant, when the man came into view. Nick's heart felt like it had stopped beating in his chest and he clutched at the stitch, where it felt his soul was being sucked into a black hole. He felt like he'd been sucker punched and he backed away, back into the hall, so fast and so vehmently that he struck the far wall of the hallway before he stopped and he slid to the tile floor, his eyes wide with shock.

Max stood, alone, in a pool of light from the window, staring at the man in the bed, transfixed for a moment. Then, as though it had taken that time to notice Nick had pulled away so violently, Max turned and ran to Nick in the hallway.

Nick was gasping for breath, his eyes swimming with the image of the man in the bed, his heart racing. He had tears streaming from his eyes, though he was unaware of it. Max crawled onto Nick's lap and stared up at him, "Nick?" he asked, his voice pinched with worry. "Nick?"

"Oh God," Nick cried and drew his hands to his face.

"What is it, Nick?" Max begged, trying to pry Nick's hands away.

Nick shook his head.

How could he possibly wrap words around the fact that it was his father in the hospital bed, too... not just Max's?

"The scars of early childhood stood showing on his skin
Necessary enemy so healing could begin
From the message of apology his heart might soon break free
For now he walks that island all shipwrecked, and ready..."
- Jars of Clay, Shipwrecked

Chapter 22
Shipwrecked

Raine threw her bookbag down at the door. "Oh my God," she yelled into the house, "Can you even believe how hot it is out? I mean seriously, you'd think we were in the tropics!" Raine kicked off her Doc Martins and headed into the kitchen. "We should go swimming later, seriously, it's that hot out." She grabbed the freezer door and pulled it open. "I'm gonna have a popsicle -- do you want a popsicle?"

When she didn't get a response, she shrugged and grabbed only one lemon pop, pulling the wrapper off and wrapping it around the stick before doubling back and heading for the living room. She assumed he would be there, since his car was sitting in the driveway, but when she crossed the threshold and found the couch empty, she stood, sucking on her popsicle and staring at the place she'd expected Nick to be. "Hmph," she grunted, and bit a large chunk off her pop before heading for the stairs.

Raine took the steps two at a time, "Nick?" she called down the hallway. She noticed his bedroom door wasn't closed all the way and walked toward it, slurping on her popsicle. She pushed open the door without knocking, "Dude, do you want a popsi--" Raine stopped midsentence.

Nick was laying on his bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling, his face wet with tears. He didn't move or look up when she'd entered, he'd only stayed laying, staring, his nose flared, as though holding back a great wave of emotion.

Raine dropped what was left of the popsicle into the waste bin beside Nick's desk and, for the second time that week, sat on the edge of the bed. She grabbed Nick's hand as she'd done Max's and stroked the skin gently with her thumb. She looked at him, waiting, and when he didn't move, she lowered herself across him and hugged him. "Nick," she asked, listening to his heart beat in her ear, "What's wrong?"

"I never wanted to see him again," Nick muttered.

Raine tilted her head against Nick's chest so she was looking up at his chin. "Who?"

"My father."

Raine's heart skipped a beat and she sat up and stared at Nick for a long moment. "You saw your father?" she asked.

Nick nodded.

"Where?"

"At the hospital," Nick answered.

"When you went to see Max's father?" Raine sounded incredulous, "What are the odds of that?" she asked, perplexed, "That's insane Nick, it was clearly meant to be... I mean, what are the odds of you going for one father and finding another?" her voice rambled on, "It's like destiny or something like --"

"The odds get better when it's the same person."

Nick's voice was so flat that at first Raine wasn't sure she'd detected the true meaning of the statement. She hesitated. "You mean your father and Max's father?" she asked.

"Yeah," Nick answered, his voice a monotone, "Same guy."

Raine stared at Nick in shock, "Did - did you know that you were -- brothers?" she asked slowly, carefully.

Nick's eyes rolled to meet hers. He blinked up at her, his skin hot with surprise. The word brothers had not crossed his mind yet, in all that had gone through his head, this thought, this connection with Max had not yet. He felt the wind leave him and he closed his eyes. "Oh God," he whispered.



Mimi hung up the phone and looked out the window at the cardboard box, sitting on the grass halfway across the lawn. She sighed and made her way downstairs and out the front door. "Max," she called from the stoop, "Sweetie, Nick's not coming over today."

The box was still, though it seemed disappointed, as though the box's shoulders had slumped. Mimi knew this was crazy, she was projecting onto the box the things she was sure the little boy inside was feeling.

"You might as well come inside now," she said quietly, "It's supposed to rain soon." Slowly, the box turned over and inched its way across the lawn to the stoop and into the house.

Mimi looked around at the clouds overhead and shivered before letting herself back inside and closing the front door.



"I don't know how I overlooked it," Mimi was saying into the phone. Max had been listening to her talking for over an hour to Barry. She sounded sad and Max hated it when grown ups sounded sad. Mimi shuffled around the kitchen in her sparkly mules and Max listened while she put dishes away. He listened carefully, hoping she would say something about Nick.

He hugged his knees to his chest, hoping and waiting.

"I know it isn't my fault," Mimi explained, "But I should've seen the last names, I should've remembered. I spent months trying to build a strong case against that man. I should've seen the name and recognized it."

Max rocked himself a little.

After a long pause, Mimi said, "He hasn't been around here since. Max is starting to get a little restless, I think, though it's hard to tell. He hasn't come out of the box."

Max picked at the toes of his Converse sneakers.

"I'm really getting worried, Barry," she said quietly. "I mean it's been three days..." Mimi closed the cupboard door and Max saw her shoes shuffle by, heading for her rocking chair. He shifted his box so he could see her chair and watched as she lowered herself into it and began rocking, her knees bending and unbending as the chair moved.

"If anything will help, that will," Mimi said, "I really hope you can get in touch with him, I haven't been able to get him to answer his phone. His room mate has been calling to tell me he isn't coming," she explained.

Max sighed.

"Well, thank you," Mimi said, "Please, if you get in touch with him, tell him that there's a very sad little boy here who would really like to see him, okay? ...Thank you. Have a good night." Mimi hung up the phone. With the beep of it, Max tensed and pressed himself as far back into the box as he could go.

Mimi had warned him it would be bath time after she hung up the phone.

Mimi knocked on the box flaps. "Max," she called gently, "It's time for a bath." Max pulled his knees to his chest as Mimi opened the box and peered inside. "Come on, Max," she pleaded, her voice soft. "Please come out of the box."

Max shook his head and hugged his knees tighter.

"Max..." Mimi reached into the box and took hold of Max's shoe and gently tried to pull him out.

Max kicked. "No!" he shouted.

Mimi stopped in surprise. This was the first time Max had ever spoken to her. Once she'd processed that thought, she grabbed hold of his foot once more. "Max, this isn't a game, you need a bath."

"No!" Max kicked again, pulling his foot away from her and tucking it beneath him, "No, leave me alone, I don't want you, I want Nick! I want Nick!" he bellowed. Tears flooded his eyes, "I want Nick!"

"Nick isn't coming and you need a bath," Mimi said sternly. She went to reach for his foot again, but Max kicked at her foot. "Max!" she shouted.

"No!" he yelled, "Don't hurt me!"

"Max!"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" he screamed the words in a shrill, high pitched voice, and his face buckled into a sob that he'd been restraining for months. "Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me," he cried, kicking his legs against the box. His foot hit the side of it and the box gave way and the next thing he knew, the box wall had ripped away and the sides fell away from him, and he rolled onto his back, shipwrecked on an island of cardboard. Tears poured across his face and he wrapped his arms around himself, shaking. "Don't touch me," he sobbed.

Mimi's mouth hung open and and she stayed where she was, kneeling several feet away, her hand hovering in midair, her eyes wide. She didn't know what to do or how to help.

Jake came jogging into the room from the stairwell. "What's going on?" he asked, coming to a stop. He stared in disbelief at the remains of the box and Max's wailing, flailing body on the floor before him.

Mimi looked up, her eyes filled with tears, and she whispered, "Max."

Jake bent down low, inching closer to Max's side. "Max, it's okay," he said quietly.

"No," Max cried, "No! I want Nick," he begged. "I want Nick."

Jake looked up at Mimi. "Where's Nick?" he asked.

Mimi frowned, "I can't get in touch with him."

Jake looked down at Max, then back up at Mimi as Max writhed across the cardboard, his little fists smacking the flattened box. Jake reached down and grabbed Max's wrists, stilling his punching fists, "It's okay Max," Jake said, trying to think of things that Nick might say, but nothing came to mind.

Max squeezed his eyes shut tight, feeling like nothing was going to be okay ever, ever, everp again.

"Healing is a matter of time,
but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity."
- Hippocrates

Chapter 23
Withholding

"All he said was that it was extremely important that you meet with him," Raine said for about the fortieth time. She was Nick were sitting in her car in front of the Williams' House. Nick hadn't left the house since the day with Max at the hospital, and his eyes were red from lacko f sleep or tears or both. Raine studied him a moment as he hesitated. "Nick, don't let your father ruin your life again, when he's not even in it."

Nick nodded.

"Now go inside," Raine commanded in a bossy tone. "I'll be here."

Nick felt like his knees were gelatin, even more so than he had the first time he'd walked across the lot to the front door of the Williams' House. He stood in the doorway of Anne's office, hovering until she looked up. She smiled, "Mr. Williams is waiting for you," she said.

Nick's footsteps sounded like a horse traversing the hall as he made his way to Mr. Williams' office. He knocked on the door and Barry called out, "Come in, come in," and looked up from some paperwork as Nick stepped into the office. "Ah Nick," Barry said, smiling, "It's good to see you again." Nick sat and Barry pushed aside the paperwork he'd been fiddling with and settled his chin on his hand and studied Nick for a long moment. "Well then," he said slowly, "I heard about what happened when you brought Max to the hospital."

Nick had been hoping he wouldn't bring it up. "Yeah," he said, "What're the odds, right?" he forced a smile and looked at his hands, which he couldn't quite figure out how to hold.

Barry mused a moment quietly, then he murmured, "And how are you doing?"

"I feel bad that I reacted as I did," Nick admitted, "I wish I had let Max have his time, instead of freaking out like I did..." he twiddled his thumbs. "I just couldn't believe my eyes, you know, it's been seventeen years, and suddenly he's there right in front of me and I wasn't expecting it, I was expecting Max's father, and -- well, he is Max's father isn't he?" Nick breathed out a laugh through his nose and looked up at Barry. "I don't understand why nobody noticed."

"Max was born with his mother's last name," Barry explained.

Nick didn't know what to say.

After a long pause, Barry leaned back in his seat. "Nick, I'd like to offer you the internship here at the Williams' House..." Nick looked up from his hands, his eyes wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but Barry held up his hand to stop him. "But..." he said.

Nick's eyes dropped to his hands again. He knew what was coming, knew what Barry was about to ask of him, and knew that he couldn't do it. He stared down.

"I need to know that you've truly dealt with and released your own past before I can trust putting the children's into your hands." Barry studied Nick for a long moment. "I believe," he said, "That it's time for you to forgive."

"But, sir -"

"Withholding forgiveness, Nick," Barry said slowly, "Does not hurt the person you keep it from... Only you."



Nick got out of his car in front of Mimi's house and paused at the end of the driveway, where a pile of trash stood. At the bottom of the pile lay the remains of the box. He looked at the house, his heart racing, and ran up the walk way. He didn't bother knocking or kicking his shoes off at the door. "Max?!" he called, his voice ringing through the house.

Mimi came out of the kitchen, a dish cloth in her hands. "Nick," she said, a wide smile crossing her face.

"Where's M--" but before Nick could even get his name off his tongue, there was a thump and Max was there, delivering a bone-crushing hug to Nick's waist. He squeezed him tightly. "Max!" Nick said in surprise, "You're not in your box."

"I broke it," Max said proudly, "I kicked and it smashed and I got out, like the hungry caterpillar!"

Nick knelt down so he was eye-level with Max. "That's awesome buddy," he said, "I'm sorry I wasn't here to see it."

Max smiled, "It's because of you I'm a butterfly now," he said, and he wrapped his arms around Nick's neck.

Nick closed his eyes and let Max hug him tight. He could feel some part of his heart exploding, sending strength through his whole body. He felt like he could stay right there, kneeling in Mimi's living room, holding and being held by Max forever. But he knew it had to end, and so, he whispered quietly into Max's ear, "Will you help me break my cocoon, too?"

"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds
on the heel that has crushed it."
- Mark Twain

Chapter 24
Out of the Cocoon

"It's okay."

"I know."

"Here, let me hold your hand."

Max grabbed hold of Nick's hand and squeezed tight. They were in the hallway outside of '2831' again, in the pink and beige hall, and Nick was leaning against the wall, breathing deeply. He stared up at the ceiling.

"It's okay," Max repeated.

"I know," Nick said again.

Max's fingers twined through Nick's. "Do we need the explorer hats?" he asked.

Nick smirked, "I almost liked you better when you weren't talking, you know that?"

"Shhh," Max tugged Nick's arm. "C'mon." Nick took one last gasp of breath, as though he were about to go underwater, and followed Max around the corner and into room 2831.

The man looked up from the pillow he was laying against, just as he had last time. His eyes landed on Max first and his eyes crinkled sadly. He held out his hand to the little boy and whispered, "You came back." Max nodded and stepped up to the bed, letting Nick's hand fall to his side to grab onto his father's.

Nick glanced at the door. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run.

"Nick?" the man's voice was raspy and full of disbelief now.

Nick closed his eyes.

"Nick, is that you?" his voice climbed with hope.

Nick turned and looked at him. He was weak, older than Nick remembered him, with creases and lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. He had facial hair now, which he hadn't had seventeen years ago, and he had the look of a man who had gained a lot of weight and now had lost it very quickly again. He'd always been very lean and muscular when Nick knew him, but drinking had changed him. Drinking, in fact, had effectively killed him. Or at least led him to the very door, hadn't it?

Nick licked his lips, "Yeah," he said quietly, "It's me."

The man's eyes filled with tears and Nick looked at his sneakers. "Come closer, please, let me look at you," he begged.

Nick hesitated. Some internal part of him was terrified to go closer, scared to let his father lay a hand on him, afraid that, though the man looked weak and seemed apologetic, that would change the moment he let his guard down, the moment he allowed himself to be vulnerable.

"C'mere Nick," Max said, motioning, too.

That part of Nick that wanted to run, the part that was terrified, wanted to pull Max away, to tell him to stop touching that man because he was not safe. But Max knew that just as well as Nick did. If not better. Mimi had been right, after all, they did have an awful lot in common, didn't they?

Slowly, Nick inched forward and stood beind Max. He rested a hand on Max's shoulder.

"How old are you now?" his father asked, staring up at him, clutching Max's little hand in his own.

Nick's voice was quiet, shaken, "Twenty-three."

"What do you do?"

"I'm graduating this week," Nick answered, "With a bachelor's degree in psychology. I'm going to be a child psychologist. I'm going to - to help children. Children who have been beaten by parents." He leveled his chin. "Like me." He slid his arm around Max, hugging the little boy to him, "And Max."

Their father's eyes filled with tears and he squeezed Max's hand tighter. "I am sorry," he whispered thickly, "To you both." His hand was shaking and Max raised his second hand, cupping his little hands around one one large, calloused one. "I made many mistakes in my life," he confessed, "But none that I regret more than hurting either of you."

Nick set his jaw. Emotion was rising up in his throat, burning at him, threatening to bring him down. "Why did it take you seventeen years and two lives to figure that out?" Nick demanded.

Their father held his second hand out to Nick. It was shaking in midair between them as he waited for Nick to grasp it, and when Nick didn't, he did not lower it, but continued waiting as he spoke, "There's no excuse for what I did," he said, "But please... please forgive me."

Nick stared at his hand.

And then he reached out and took it.



Both of them had remained silent as, with Max clinging to Nick's hand once more, they'd left 2831 and made their way back to the parking lot to Nick's car. They'd stayed silent most of the way back to Mimi's as well, and it was only when Nick had put the car into park out front by the curb of the street and they'd sat there, staring out at the lawn where they'd met the month before that either of them spoke.

"If he's both our dads...?" Max's question didn't really have an ending, it just hung in the air between them.

Nick gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath. He unbuckled his safety belt and turned in the seat to look at Max. Max, whose unruly hair and bright eyes were so much like Nick's own that, now that he knew, he wondered why it had never occurred to him before Max was like looking at a photograph of himself seventeen years ago, come to life.

"We're brothers, Max," Nick said quietly, nodding.

Max stared at his sneakers.

Nick laid a hand on Max's knee. "You don't have to if you don't want to," he said quietly, "But... if you do want to... I talked to Raine, and..." he paused. "Max, if you want to, you can come live with me, and I'll be your family."

Max's eyes lifted to Nick's.

"I'll be your family either way," Nick said, "But if you wanna wait for a mom and a dad instead of just a goofy older brother brother, I understand ,and you can stay here with Mimi; you don't have to come with --" But before Nick could even finish uttering the words, Max had leaped across the console in between them and wrapped his arms around Nick.

"Stay the course, light a star,
Change the world where'er you are."
- Richard Le Gallienne

Epilogue
One Year Later

Nick reached to knock on Barry's office door when a hand grabbed the edge of his shirt. "Mr. Nick," the little girl looking up at him was pouting, with a big wet crocodile tear in the corner of her eye. "I hurted my knee." She pointed to her knee.

Nick dropped to her level. "Aww no," he stuck out his lower lip and examined her. "Okay, let's get you a bandaid..." He scooped her up and carried her further down the hall, turning into an office with a blue door. He set her down so she was sitting on the edge of his desk. He reached for a lunchbox that sat on top of his book case and opened it, rifling through he vast assortment of colorful bandaids inside. He held one up. "Hannah Montana?" he asked. The little girl, whose name was Ashley, shook her head. "Hmm," Nick dropped that one back into the squall of bandaids below and continued searching. "Disney Princess, rainbow colors, flowers, Toy Story..." he paused. "Ah... no. I know just the trick." He looked up, a smile spreading across his face. He closed the lunch box.

Ashley watched, wide-eyed, her tears having stopped in the thrill of expectation for what he would bedazzle her knee with. He winked and reached for the drawer of his desk. "I have," he said very quietly, glancing at the door, "A very, very special reserve... saved for very, very special people..." Ashley leaned so far over to try to peek at what he was pulling from the drawer that she nearly fell off the desk and he steadied her, "No peeking now," he commanded, rooting about in the drawer.

"Aha," he exclaimed, "Eureka." Nick looked up at the little girl, his eyes wide and twinkling with excitement. "Close your eyes."

Ashley covered them with her fingers, but peeked out between.

"I see those baby blues of yours," Nick said in a warning tone, "You gotta close'em and keep'em closed," he added, "Really, really tight..."

"They're cloooosed," Ashley whimpered, "They're cloooosed!"

"Okay." Nick bent down in front of her, like a knight to a princess, and carefully placed the bandaid on her scarcely scratched knee. Then he stood up. "Okay," he said again, "You can open your eyes now."

Ashley opened them and let out a squeal of delight. There was a brilliantly colored butterfly adorning the bend of her knee. Her fingers traced the wings, and a grin covered her face. "Now you can't tell anyone about the very special secret store, okay?" Nick said, lifting her down off the desk, "It's our secret."

"What, may I ask, is the secret?" Barry Williams had come around the corner of the office door, his glasses lowered on his nose.

Ashley looked at Nick with wide, goggly eyes.

"Well sir," Nick said, smirking, "If I told you that, it wouldn't be a secret, now would it?"

Barry chuckled. He looked down at Ashley. "Hey, that is a fancy bandaid you have there." Ashley let out a peal of giggles and ran out of the room. Barry turned to Nick. "I do believe we had an appointment some ten minutes ago?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Medical emergency," Nick said, "You understand how it rolls... you're on your way and the next thing you know, you've got a 9-1-1 shirt tug on your hands..." he balled the wrapper from the bandaid and dropped it into the rubbish bin.

Barry smiled, "Yes, I'm aware of how it rolls," he said. He held out an envelope.

"What's this?" Nick asked, taking it.

"My desperate attempt to get you to stay here," Barry replied.

Nick opened it. "That's a lot of zeros, sir," he laughed.

"There is also an unwritten job offer for your wife included," Barry added.

Nick smiled and, out of habit that had formed in the last six months, rolled the wedding band on his left hand. "But I wasn't really planning on going anywhere..." he said, his eyes leveling with Barry's.

"Just in case you were," Barry replied. "You know, the kids would be devestated.... They ceratinly adore you, Nick."

Nick laughed, his cheeks pinkening. "Well I adore them, sir."

"Then welcome to the pernament team?" Barry asked.

Nick held out his hand and they shook on it. "Thank you, sir," Nick added, waving the envelope as Barry turned to leave, "I think this will make a perfect down payment on a bigger house for my family..." he winked.

"Speaking of your family..." Barry held open the door as Max came barrelling around the corner.

"NICK!" he cried, jumping up and wrapping his arms around his brother's waist, "You will never guess what Raine and me did today. You will never guess."

Raine came around the corner and Barry winked to Nick and bowed his head to Raine politely before disappearing down the hallway, retreating from the family moment.

"What did you did?!" Nick cried, trying to match Max's level of enthusiasm with his own voice. "What did you did?!"

"We went to this butterfly garden place and I took a whole loooaddd of pictures," Max cried, "We took so many pictures it was crazy!" He held up the digital camera that Nick had finally been forced to invest in and flicked it onto preview, sliding through the images for Nick to see.

"Wow, I'll say you did," Nick laughed, watching the photos fly by on the LCD. He pulled Raine closer, wrapping an arm over her shoulder, and watched as Max showed him photo after photo of butterflies.